


The Tomato-Bastard's Gift

by Starren_Moonstone



Series: Ties that Bind [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18861907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starren_Moonstone/pseuds/Starren_Moonstone
Summary: An explosion has left Spain in a coma, leaving several nations to wonder what caused it and why Spain would put himself in a position like that in the first place.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an update to the story I wrote a while ago. I deleted the original due to the fact the edits I made are substantial enough to warrant it. There are a lot in this one, and I am super glad for it. When this story was originally put out, I wasn't all that pleased with it, and knew I would go back to make edits later. Now that I have, I can say that I gave this story the justice it deserves.

_The storm caught Spain by surprise. Actually, it caught everyone by surprise; no one really saw it coming until it was upon them. Odd, but odd seemed to be the theme of Spain’s voyage that go around. Ever since he disembarked from his country, he didn’t run into any ships. Enemy or friend. It was just his ship and his men out in the mercy of the open sea._

_“¡Señior!” Spain’s first mate, Captain Diego Miguel Angel García, called out._

_“¿Que pasa?” Spain asked, coming up to Captain García’s side. His captain had a spy glass out, looking at the open sea._

_“On the horizon, it’s a British ship” Captain García explained, handing the spy glass over to his superior officer._

_Spain took it and looked through the heavy rain. Sure enough, it was one of England’s ships and it looked like it was in trouble. Everyone on the deck was hanging on for dear life, and the ship looked as though it would sink into the sea at any moment._

_“¿Así?” Captain García asked._

_“Bring the boat over there. We rescue what we can.”_

_Captain García nodded and started shouting orders at the men._

_As Spain stared at the British ship, he got a better look at the men on there. One man in particular… England, the nation himself, was at the wheel of the ship. ‘This is not good at all,’ Spain thought, as he closed up the spy glass and went down to the main part of the deck._

_He would have just kidnapped everyone and made them prisoners, but England was on this ship. While yes, he had a grudge against him more than anyone, Spain also respected him. He remembered vaguely that England also had someone at home waiting for his return. They were in the same boat, so to speak, soon to be literally._

_Spain’s ship pulled up to England’s, accidentally bumping into it due to the roughness of the storm. It was not as smooth of an entrance as he would have liked. Once his men were ready, Spain boarded England’s ship. The British crew members all had some kind of weapon in hand. Some had rifles, some had pistols, most had swords. England himself was holding a sword, and looked very, very fierce._

_“Well,” Spain said as he walked over, “Look what the storm decided to wash in?”_

_England’s already hardened look hardened. His thick eyebrows crossed. “I don’t think I gave you permission to come aboard yet,” he hissed._

_Once Spain was right in front of England, he pulled out his gun and pointed it at England’s stomach. Not in a completely obvious way, not yet at least. He needed to be the one in control of the situation for his plan to work._

_“Just between you and me,” Spain whispered in England’s ear, “I have someone at home I’d very much like to get back to in one piece or else he’ll kill me. No doubt you do as well. Surrender your ship and I’ll see you home. ¿Comprende?”_

_England raised an eyebrow. “And how can I trust you?”_

_Spain looked directly into England’s eyes. “You really don’t have a choice, do you?” England looked confused for a moment, then noticed the gun pointed at him. “It’s not loaded,” Spain explained in a hushed tone, “This is just for show. My ship is fine. So tell your crew to obey my orders, or I will have you perish in this storm.” Spain hoped that England would not be difficult and chose the right choice._

_England dropped his sword in defeat, his men following suit._

_“Good. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you and your men. Just this once.”_

_Spain led England to his quarters, using the gun as a prop for his show. Not that any of the men knew. Just as he liked it. Once he had taken England to the safety of his quarters, Spain put the gun back in his belt. “Now,” Spain said, adjusting his attire to look sharp and put together, “I have to get this ship out of this storm. Take a siesta; you look beat. I’ll be back when we are safe and sound, and we can talk about things then, ‘k?” Spain put his hand on the doorknob and paused for a moment before he added, “Oh, and welcome to the_ Asunción _.”_

_England nodded and Spain ventured out back into the storm. Once England’s crew were taken off the smaller boat, Spain found Captain García and pulled him aside. “¿Encontraste el primer oficial?” Spain asked._

_Captain García shook his head._

_Spain groaned. He needed both leaders of the ship. He needed to make sure the first mate would quell any disturbance that could go on with this voyage. Spain walked back on the failing vessel, in hopes to find where the first mate could be hiding. The ship was on its last legs; that hit did a number on the poor vessel. Spain needed to be quick._

_He went into the captain’s cabin first. He has a strong feeling about looking there. Instinct? Possibly. It was something he suggested to Captain García once. The walls of the cabin were covered with maps and sea charts, all marked up with different routes all around the world. The floor was littered in assorted books and objects, mostly likely fallen from their original positions due to the roughness of the storm. It wouldn’t be like England to have his space be like this; he wasn’t the type._

_Spain spotted a wardrobe in the corner. He grinned, and proceeded to open it. Inside was a very determined looking sea captain. He seemed small for a captain, but Spain figured it was because he was scrunched in a wardrobe. He had piercing green eyes and short brown hair that needed to be cleaned up. It was clear that he had been on the open sea for a while. The captain held a box in one hand and a sword up to Spain’s neck._

_“You may want to rethink that,” Spain said, touching the tip of the blade, “I currently have the rest of the crew on my ship, unless there are others hiding.”_

_“Like I would tell you.” Loyal. No wonder England had this man as a captain. However, that made things just a bit more difficult for Spain._

_“Believe it or not, I am your best bet of survival. This ship is about to go under. Do as you wish, but I think your admiral would rather see you alive.”_

_The captain gave Spain a very hard look. “Where is Admiral Kirkland?”_

_“Would you believe me if I told you? He is safe on my ship. I have no intention of hurting him. However, I need to make sure the two of you will keep your men in line.”_

_“Señior,” Captain García said, running into the room, “Tenemos que salir. ¡Ahora!”_

_Spain turned to England’s captain and said, “You heard him.”_

_Begrudgingly, the captain stood up. He handed the box to Spain. “Give that to my admiral. It’s his, and he needs it.”_

_Spain took the box. It was a hand-held, wooden little thing, intricately carved with Celtic symbols and designs. He could feel the weight of its importance. “It will be delivered. Captain García,” Spain faced his first mate, “Llevarlo contigo. El es un invitado.” Spain looked back at the British captain. “Your name?”_

_“Captain Myles Henderson.”_

_Captain García looked at Spain confused._

_“Por favor, te explico mas tarde.”_

_“Si, Almirante,” Captain García motioned for Captain Henderson to follow and the two of them left the ship._

_Spain felt the ship buckle beneath him. He wasted no time getting back onto his own ship. Even though Spain was a lot more experienced with the sea than his first mate, Captain García had an incredible sense when it came to the sea. It was something Spain had learned to trust and even depended on at times. Captain García hadn’t let him down yet._

_Spain watched England’s ship sink into the sea. Most of Spain’s crew were running about, making sure that they’d all survive the storm. The Spaniard looked down at the box that Captain Henderson had been clutching so tightly. The only value that thing could have was a sentimental one… and sentimentality never paid well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Note: ¿Encontraste el primer oficial? - Did you find the first mate?  
> Tenemos que salir. ¡Ahora! - We need to leave. Now!  
> Llevarlo contigo. El es un invitado. - Take him with you. He is a guest.  
> Te explico mas tarde. - I'll explain later.


	2. Chapter 2

          Greece came back down into Spain’s kitchen with a very confused look on his face. A few days ago, the Spaniard had called him specifically to come over and look at something. It was very vague, but Spain was excited. It was something he discovered, and Greece hoped that it wouldn’t lead to anything bad.

          “Well?” Japan, who had been visiting Greece at the time, and decided to come along on the adventure, said, “Did you find him?”

          Greece shook his head. When the two nations had come to the house, there was no sign of Spain. “I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this.”

          “Maybe he just went into town?”

          “Without a note?”

          Japan shrugged.

          Greece figured it could have been a possibility. After all, Spain was very aloof and forgot about things constantly. However, there was this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that there was something else going on. “I’m going to look outside. I’ll be back.”

          Japan nodded. “Maybe he will be back while you are gone.”

          “I hope so.”

          A scratching came to the door. Both nations looked at each other and went to investigate. Greece opened it to find a white and brown cat on the door step. When it saw Greece, it meowed and got off the door step. It waited patiently a few feet away.

          “He’s very cute,” Japan said, taking a picture of the cat, “I’m surprised your cat magnet works this well. We are in the middle of no where.”

          Greece knelt down and tried to coax the cat back again. The cat wouldn’t move; instead, it meowed pleadingly. When it became apparent that Greece was getting nowhere, he walked over to the cat. It darted to the side of the house, into the garden. Greece began chasing the creature, until it stopped at the door of the garden shed in the back. The door was slightly ajar, and Greece had a very bad feeling about what was inside. The cat meowed again, and darted through the door.

          Slowly, Greece opened the shed door. There was a terrible burnt smell in the air that made him gag a bit. The air had a faint cloud of black hanging around. Black smoot covered everything in the shed… the walls, the garden tools, the table filled with science equipment… and Spain, who was lying passed out against a wall far from the table.

          “Spain…” Greece knelt down and shook Spain, trying to wake him up. The Spaniard’s head only rolled. “Spain!” He slapped him hard in the face.

          Spain didn’t stir at all. The whole situation did not bode well. Greece checked Spain’s vitals. His pulse was very slow and his breathing labored. Carefully, Greece picked up Spain and brought him back to the house, the white and brown cat leading the way. He brought Spain upstairs, with some help from Japan with the doors, and put the Spaniard on his bed. He and Japan cleaned Spain up a little bit, checking for injuries as they did so.

          “He has a lot of bruises,” Japan noted.

          Greece nodded. He felt the back of Spain’s head; there was dried blood there. Greece put together that this was probably a concussion. Not the worst thing… so long as Spain would wake up again.

          “How bad is it?” Japan asked after Greece had paused for a considerable amount of minutes.

          “That remains to be seen. Can you get some water and something to bandage his head with?”

          When Japan got back with what Greece asked for, he cleaned up the wound and carefully bandaged Spain’s head. Greece had seen his mother do this many times in the past. She had words that she would say as well when treating people, but Greece no longer remembered what they were.

          “Now, all we can do is wait,” Greece said. He felt that there was something more that should be done, but he wasn’t confident about it.

          “Looks like we’ll be staying here a while,” Japan said.

          “Looks like it.” It would have been nicer to have a host though.

 

          Around mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang. Japan was in the kitchen looking through his emails and making sure that he wasn’t needed in his government. He would have gone if his presence was required, but luckily it wasn’t and so he could remain with Greece to look after Spain. The Spaniard didn’t have any close family, except for maybe the Italians.

          Speaking of which… When Japan opened the door, the two brothers were there on the door step. Romano was in front, looking very put off. Then again, Japan had never seen him in a good mood before and assumed this to be that Italian’s normal. Italy was smiling as was his usual.

          “Japan?” Romano said, surprised, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

          Japan was a bit shocked. He knew he shouldn’t be; he had seen Romano enough to know of his rude behavior and bad mouth.

          “Oh, come on, fratello, don’t be so mean,” Italy said to his brother, “It’s good to see you again, Kiku.”

          “Likewise, Feliciano.” Japan invited the Italians in and they grouped together in the kitchen.

          “Where is Spain?” Romano asked after a time.

          “Upstairs,” Japan answered, “But before you go…”

          Romano was already going upstairs. It was amazing how fast his feet could carry him. Japan sighed.

          “Why?” Italy asked, noticing Japan’s look of deep concern.

          “Spain got badly hurt. Greece and I don’t know what happened, but he probably has a concussion. He hasn’t woken up… and who knows how long he’s been unconscious for.”

          Italy bit his lower lip, “Will he be ok?”

          “I think so, he just needs some time to recover.”

          Romano’s voice could be heard angrily yelling from upstairs. No doubt he was swearing, but Japan didn’t understand any of it because it was in very fast Italian. Italy ran upstairs, Japan following close behind. In Spain’s bedroom, Greece was holding Romano before he did something stupid, like making Spain’s concussion worse.

          “Let me go, bastiardo!” Romano was yelling, trying to free himself from Greece’s grasp.

          “Lovino, please,” Italy walked in front of Romano and looked him in the eye, “He’s going to be ok. Kiku said so.”

          Japan waved awkwardly as Romano looked back at him. “Everything will be alright,” Japan reassured Romano, “But it will take time.”

          Romano growled, but settled down all the same.

          “It will be best to stay and take care of him until he wakes up,” Greece explained letting Romano go, “And even after, depending on what damage may have happened.”

          “That reminds me, what are you two doing here?” Japan asked Italy.

          “Well, Spain had called us a few days ago, saying that there was something he wanted to show us. A gift…”

          “He didn’t tell you what it was?”

          Italy shook his head, “Just said that it would be something really nice. Something that would help the both of us. And he said that you don’t tell other people about what a gift is because that ruins what a gift is before you get it.”

          Romano walked over to Spain’s bedside, his hand guiding the path he took.

          “Where did you find him?” Italy asked once everyone, excluding Romano, went back downstairs in the kitchen.

          “In the shed,” Greece explained, “I think there might have been an explosion, but I don’t know why or how.”

          “Where he keeps all the gardening stuff?: Italy was both surprised and confused, “Why would any of that explode?”

          “He had set up some equipment there…” Greece trailed off for a moment, lost in a thought. “I’ll see what I can come up with. Maybe we can determine what is ailing him from that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a fun note, the cat is supposed to be Spain!cat (not that it matters in the long run - just a fun tidbit).
> 
> That is it for this week's update. Until next week.


	3. Chapter 3

_-You know, if you are going to kill me, Espa_ _ña, do so with your sword and not with cloth.-_

_Spain woke up, a tad bit confused. He sat up and looked about his quarters. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except for maybe England being there, taking over his cot. Spain closed his eyes again, and tried to remember the voice that spoke. It sounded familiar, and he knew he should know the name._

_There was a pang of guilt in his heart._

_Spain shook the thought away. It was probably nothing. Why should he feel guilty? The sun was out on the water and there was no sign of last night’s storm through what he could see in the window. Everything was fine. He got up, time to see where they were._

_“Buenos Dias, Señor,” Captain García said, saluting his admiral as he walked onto the deck, “I hope you slept well.” His usually well kept brown hair was hidden underneath the bicorn as was the naval uniform. His blue and red jacket, however, still had remnants of last night’s storm on it. While it was dry, it was stained with green from flying seaweed, and parts of the jacket were ripped._

_“Si, gracias. What news do you have for me?” Spain walked about the deck, with Captain García following close._

_“We survived the storm,” Captain García said, “And we are very close to a port.”_

_“Are we?”_

_Captain García nodded, “Cuba is only a few days away.”_

_Spain could hear that voice from his dream again, but nothing of what they said. He shook his head. “Good. We do need supplies.”_

_“And deal with the British,” Captain Garcia pointed out._

_“They are remaining with us until we get back to Europe.”_

_“Señor?” Captain García looked at his admiral in a question manner, “Is that really wise? They are certainly not our allies.”_

_Spain sighed. He knew his first mate meant well. “Capitán, humor me for a moment. Did you see the admiral of that ship? Did you get a good look at him?”_

_“I did, Señor… where are you taking this?”_

_“That man is just like me. He is Britain in the flesh.”_

_Captain García’s eyes widen in realization. Spain had explained to him about nation kind some time ago.  “So, it would not do for a nation to drown at sea then. I still don’t understand why we need to take him home. Could we not leave him in one of his colonies?”_

_“We could.” That idea had been on Spain’s mind. But… his better nature refused to do so. “However, we’re not.”_

_“Do you owe him?” Captain García looked absolutely lost._

_“For once, no.”_

_“Do not get me wrong, Señor, this is a change that I will abide by and even be grateful for. But… this isn’t you. Or at least one I have not seen.”_

_Spain blinked slowly. Was he not nice? Sure, he was harsh at times of war but… “Where is the British crew being held?”_

_“With the exception of Captain Henderson, in the brig. The captain is with me.” Captain García pointed up to where Captain Henderson was standing, looking out into the sea. “Despite not understanding anything he says, he is interesting.”_

_“So you like him. That’s a first.”_

_Captain García sighed, “It’s hard not to like him when we are cut from the same cloth.”_

_“That is very true, but this is the first time you like another sea captain. Most of them irk you.”_

_“Wrong kind of cloth, Antonio,” Captain García said, an amused look on his face._

_Spain was completely lost._

_“In any case, he is a good man. I’ll keep him out of trouble with our men.”_

_“Good. Keep things in order.”_

_“As always, Señor.” Captain García saluted and rejoined with Captain Henderson._

_As Spain walked back to his quarters to check in with England, he wondered mildly what his first mate meant. He knew well enough to not be subtle with anything when talking with Spain._


	4. Chapter 4

          Since Romano was by Spain’s bedside, Greece took the opportunity to check out the shed more closely. Italy came with him, wanting to see what condition it was left in.

          “It smells like England’s kitchen,” Italy said as they entered the shed, covering his nose to block out the stench, “Even worse, now that I think of it, which is pretty impressive.”

          “It persists,” Greece remarked. Nothing really changed in the place, except maybe it was less dark.

          “Since when did Spain do alchemy?” Italy was at the table with all the science equipment, “He doesn’t do much with this kind of thing.”

          “Why alchemy?”

          “Well… this looks like alchemy stuff. I haven’t seen anyone actually use this kind of thing for centuries but in all the movies this kind of thing is shown to be used for magic potions and that sort of thing. Oh, wait, this is a beaker.” Italy lifted up a giant piece of what was a beaker. There was some clear residue left on it… no, not clear. As it passed the light of the late afternoon sun, Greece could see a rainbow in the liquid.

          ‘Could it be possible…?’ Greece thought as he walked over to Italy and took a closer look at the liquid. He rubbed the substance against his fingers. It felt thick, like mercury. He sniffed it; the smell was sweet. There was only one thing this could be, but how did Spain get his hands on the stuff?

          “Something wrong, Heracles?” Italy asked, “You haven’t said anything.”

          “He was working with ambrosia,” Greece said slowly.

          “I thought that stuff was just legend.”

          “No. It is very much real. It is the nectar of the gods and the bane of normal men.”

          “And for us nations?”

          Greece shrugged, “Something in between. It won’t kill us, but it is not without its side-effects. It’s addicting.”

          “So what, was he trying to make it?”

          Greece looked around the shed again. There wasn’t any indication that there was more of the ambrosia lying about. “No… I don’t think…”

          “Well, maybe he kept it in here.” Italy ran over to the cupboard and opened it up. Instead of what should have been fertilizer, gardening gloves and sun hats, there was ambrosia to be sure, but also other chemicals. “Um… Greece?”

          Greece walked over and stood next to Italy. “I see…” He had no clue what Spain was doing, and he was lost more than ever looking at the chemicals in the cupboard. He figured he could rule out making more ambrosia as one of the things he was doing. Ambrosia was made using more magical substances, and was created during very specific times of the year under specific circumstances. Melatonin, microcrystalline cellulose, and doxylamine succinate were certainly not apart of that ancient recipe. There were other chemicals there, but none of them were of any help to Greece to piece the puzzle together. “Let’s go back to the house for the day. I’ll look into this more tomorrow.”

          “But… we don’t really know anything more about Spain’s condition.”

          “Ambrosia was involved. He is going to be out for a while.” He did remember one time when several of the nation kind ran to his mother for help. Hellas did what she could when first taking care of them, but explained to Greece that magic does as magic wished. So if a person was placed in a coma through magical means, all the rest of the world would have to wait. It took a few weeks for those effected to become conscious again at the time. Even with all scientific advancement since the ancient times, Greece knew that there was nothing to speed up the process. “We have to wait.”

          Italy did not look happy about that, however he nodded all the same. As the two of them left the shed, Greece noticed a notebook. The page it was opened to was all covered in soot. He carefully picked it up. Maybe this would explain Spain’s thought process… so long as Greece could decipher Spain’s handwriting.

 

          Romano wasn’t sure when he nodded off. It was siesta time, but he was supposed to be looking out for Spain. Maybe it was from the fit of rage he went through seeing Spain in such a state. As he looked over Spain again, nothing seemed to have changed… his face seemed a little more flushed though. Romano put a hand to Spain’s head. It felt hot.

          ‘Well, fuck,’ Romano thought as he looked around the room. He needed to cool down the fever. There was still the bowl of water from earlier, but no towel to be seen. “Don’t you dare get any worse,” Romano scolded Spain’s unconscious body before proceeding out of the room.

          Romano walked down the stairs and to the closet where Spain kept clean towels and other supplies. As he grabbed a towel and fresh bandages, Romano felt very bitter about everything. An empty feeling nagged at his heart.

          “…I just wanted to know if you knew what to do to help someone in a coma?” Romano heard his brother’s voice come from down the hall.

          Romano poked his head out to look. Italy was pacing back and forth the width of the hallway, with a worried look on his face. “And who the fuck are you calling?” Romano growled.

          Italy mouthed the word “Germany” then went back to the call, “No, well, we don’t know yet, he just seems to be in one. He doesn’t respond to anything.”

          “Get off the phone with him.” Romano shoved the stuff in his hands back into the closet and walked down the hall toward Italy.

          “But… we have no idea how to deal with someone in a coma,” Italy explained very quickly to Romano.

          “We don’t need _his_ goddamn help.”

          “But… fratello…” Italy looked hurt. Romano was having none of it. He still hated Germany with blind rage that even Romano couldn’t understand completely. There was something about that German’s face he didn’t like. It reminded him too much of someone who broke his brother’s heart a long time ago…

          Romano’s foot caught on something and he could feel himself falling to the ground. In an attempt to stop himself from falling, he reached out to the bookcase that was to his right, which was a huge mistake because it ended up falling with him. And somehow, Italy was caught up in that too. Just his luck. So, it ended with the two Italians sprawled out on the ground buried under books with a bookcase almost on top of them. The only reason it wasn’t was because the width of the hallway was shorter than the length of the bookcase. Romano looked behind him to see what he tripped on; a small turtle looked back at him.

          “Why you idiota of a…” Romano was ready to throw the turtle out of the window.

          “Feliciano?” said Germany from the phone. It was lying on the ground near Italy’s hand. “Feliciano, are you alright?”

          Romano made to snatch the phone, but Italy grabbed it up first. All Romano got was Italy’s wrist. Good enough. Italy tried to put the phone back up to his ear, but Romano was stronger. The two Italians squirmed around helplessly on the ground in a pond of books.

          Eventually, Italy had enough and gave up the struggle. Romano got the cell phone from Italy, but by that time Germany had hung up. There was a message though, which read: “I’m on my way over. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”

          “Now look what you’ve done, the potato bastard is coming.”

          “Really?” Italy said, his face lighting up with excitement.

          Romano simply glared at his brother. Japan came into the hallway and looked at the situation with a confused look on his face. “And don’t you dare say anything,” Romano said, pointing a finger at Japan. ‘My fucking God,’ Romano thought to himself, ‘We are hopeless, aren’t we?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellas is Ancient Greece's name. Not her human name, but her nation name. Her people would have called her that and thusly what she would introduce herself as Hellas to other nations. I figured it would be a better way of calling her than just Ancient Greece.
> 
> That is it for this week's updates. Until next week.


	5. Chapter 5

          _Spain was floating in darkness, as if being suspended over a deep abyss on a giant invisible cloud. He didn’t fear it at all. He felt very safe, for a reason he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. Maybe it was the music playing from afar. Music from his homeland played on a guitar. If only he could dance with this music that was playing… Except he couldn’t move. At all. His body felt pinned by some invisible force._

**Antonio… Can you hear me?**

          _Spain knew that voice. It sounded like Veneziano… but older. ‘Since when did he grow up?’ Spain wondered._

_And then he fell into the abyss. The falling sensation terrified him, and the feeling only grew as he continued. How bad was it going to hurt when he reached the bottom?_

_Spain didn’t make impact though. He suddenly was on solid ground in one piece, still surrounded by darkness. There were voices everywhere, echoing and bouncing off walls Spain could not see. They were speaking all at once, in many different languages. It was maddening. Spain wanted to cry out, but he could make no sound._

_There was a smoke that quickly spread throughout the room that made Spain cough violently. It was thick, and hard to take down. It smelled awful. Air, he needed air._

**Not again.**

          _He couldn’t stop himself from coughing and he felt as though his lungs were going to pop out of his mouth. He fell to the ground off his hammock and was on all fours, helpless to do anything else but get the smoke out of his system. He felt wood underneath the palms of his hands._

_He felt someone sit him up. “Something wrong?” England asked, concerned._

_Spain shook his head as he continued to cough. This was something that had to pass. It wasn’t the first time this happened. England handed Spain a flask, which he accepted and took a drink from. The rocking of the ship anchored him back in reality and away from whatever that dark room was in his dream. It terrified him how real it felt and how seamless the transition from sleeping to waking was._

_“Gracias, Inglaterra,” Spain said quietly, once his coughing fit had ceased. His throat felt scratchy and sore._

_“What happened?” England asked._

_Spain shook head, “I don’t know. It’s been happening to me a lot recently, ever since I started on this voyage. No need to worry about it though. I am fine.”_

_England nodded._

_Spain tried to think back to the dream. A part of him wanted to know all that was said in that room. It sounded important, everything. Messages he needed to hear. But even awake, he couldn’t sort out the sound._

_‘It was just a dream. It couldn’t be important.’ Spain tried to convince himself. He tried to shake the dream out of his head as he put on his hat and admiral’s jacket on. He needed to see what the update was around the ship._

_All seemed to be in order around the deck. No fights, no disagreements. Everything was working swimmingly. The wind was in the sails and the sun was high in the sky. All was relatively quiet out at sea._

_“Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing,” England said as they walked about._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“This act. This front. I personally call it a mask.”_

_Spain looked out at the sea to avoid England’s eyes. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”_

_“Deny it if you like.” England leaned over the railing of the ship. “I know I would if anyone asked me about it. And I have. But, you were choking, and could have died. And you say that everything is fine. For you, that seems odd.”_

_“Because I’m open like a book? Since when?”_

_“No, not that. It’s because you are one of the more honest people I know. Wearing a mask isn’t like you.”_

_“If you say so.” Spain looked down at his right hand. Oddly enough, England wasn’t the only one who spoke about a mask._

_“How about you cut the crap and wipe that goddamn smile off your face?” Romano glared down at Spain. He was standing on Spain’s desk to get some height advantage while the older nation was sitting down._

_“What are you talking about?” Spain said in defense, folding up a letter he had just received from his boss._

_“You can’t be happy about this.”_

_“Why not? Everything is fine. It’s just a small emergency that I need to take care of over in the Americas. I should be back before the last harvest.”_

_Romano continued to glare at Spain. “I hate it when you do this,” the Italian muttered as he hopped off the desk._

_“What’s wrong, Romano?”_

_“You!” Romano spun around and pointed a finger up at Spain. “You always do this when you are called off somewhere. You pretend that everything is fine, and you take out your frustration on everyone else.”_

_Spain looked at Romano in confusion._

_“Argh, what’s the fucking point? It’s not like I can change your mind anyway.” Romano took off without explaining anything._

_Spain sighed, and slouched in his chair. Yes, he was frustrated about being summoned away across the globe. Especially so close to Tomatina. But he never took it out on anyone. He was still pleasant. He still smiled. He still carried out his business. So everything was fine…_

_“And what if I took off this so called mask?” Spain asked England, pulling himself out of his vivid daydream, “There are people here who depend on it. I need to be strong and in control.”_

_“I’m not one of them though,” England pointed out, “You have nothing to prove to me.”_

_Spain looked at the Englishman. “That may be true, however you are an enemy. You are one of the last people I should be vulnerable to.”_


	6. Chapter 6

          It didn’t take Germany long at all to get to Spain’s house, mainly because he was already in that country for business. It was dark out by the time he got to the house, and he dearly hoped that nothing too serious was going on. He walked up to the front door and knocked, praying that Romano wouldn’t be the one to open it. No doubt, if that Italian was the one to answer, Germany would get a tomato in his face.

          The door opened, and of all people, Japan was the one to open the door. “Ludwig,” Japan said, smiling, “It is good to see you.”

          “Likewise, Kiku… but, what are you doing here?”

          “I was in the area.” Japan stepped aside to let the German in, “Feliciano told me you were coming.”

          “How is Spain?”

          “No change really… he has a fever now, and he coughs every now and then, but other than that, he doesn’t stir.”

          “Ludwig! You’re here!” Italy’s voice said, making Germany look up. Italy was at the top of the steps, a grand smile on his face. He ran down the stairs and tackled Germany with a hug, almost sending the pair of them to the ground.

          “Glad to see you too,” Germany muttered, trying to regain his balance. He meant it full heartedly; it was always a relief for Germany to see Italy as his usual cheery self. “So, where is Spain?”

          “He’s upstairs, follow me.” Italy sounded so proud to be able to say that, which made Germany inwardly chuckle a bit. They went up to Spain’s room. Romano was there, looking pissed off, but at least he didn’t throw a tomato upon first sight.

          Spain started violently coughing. He wheezed trying to get breath.

          Oh, no, not again,” Italy said as he rushed over to Spain.

          Germany went over to the bedside as well and sat Spain up. The coughing lessened then stopped altogether. “How long has this been going on?” Germany asked, situating Spain so that he could stay in a more upright position.

          “Since Greece and I found him this morning,” Japan explained, “That coughing has been getting worse though. It sounded like he was going to throw up a lung.”

          “Well, that was some wonderful imagery,” Romano said, not at all amused.

          Germany gave Spain an inspection. The blow to the back of the head worried Germany. “He might be bleeding internally. I’m glad he stopped bleeding out, but you do need to keep an eye on it.”

          “And how do we know if he is or not?” Italy asked.

          “We don’t… the best thing we can do is keep him comfortable and keep trying to rouse him. He’s a nation, so he should heal properly in no time. If it doesn’t change in a few days… We may need to think about taking him to a hospital.” Germany also didn’t like how hot Spain felt. “Please tell me you’ve been keeping him hydrated.”

          Everyone looked at Romano, who, after a pause, stood up and walked out of the room to get a glass of water.

 

          “You’re not staying?” Japan asked once everyone had dinner and Germany checked up on Spain again. The water really did help bring the temperature down.

          “I can’t. I’ll stay the night, since it’s too dark to really be traveling. But I have business here that I cannot avoid. My boss won’t let me.”

          Italy pouted, and slouched on the kitchen table.

          “I’ll come back when I’m done,” Germany said, “But that will be in a few days. I hope you can all take care of yourselves in the meantime.”

          “Aye, aye, captain,” Italy said, halfheartedly.

          Romano, who had been leaning against the door frame leading to the kitchen with his arms crossed, looked at Germany for a few moments. “I’ll get you some blankets. You’re staying on the couch.” He left to get what was promised.

          Germany sighed, but he half expected something like that. Romano never liked him.

          “I’ll stay with you, Ludwig,” Italy said, half smiling.

          “Hai, I will too,” Japan perked up.

          The three of them took seats in the living room, next to the kitchen. Japan took a chair while Germany and Italy took the couches. Romano came in shortly there after with blankets, saw what the three of them were doing, then proceeded to get a sleeping mat.

          “I say, whoever falls asleep last gets the mat,” Italy said, grinning.

          Japan moved to sit next to Italy. “You’re on.”

          Germany shook his head. The logic certainly didn’t add up enough for a contest… but then again, this was Italy. “That’s not a healthy competition.”

          “We’ll call it off at midnight,” Japan promised.

          Germany sighed and took out a book he had been reading. It was a guide to relationships, in general. He wasn’t the worst at it, but he knew he needed some help in the area. After all… there were a few people he owed that to big time. And they were in the room with him.

          “So guess what?” Italy asked to the room. Before anyone could, he followed it up with, “Canada is getting a new boss.”

          “I read about it this morning,” Japan said, pulling up said article from his phone, “It seems a bit sudden.”

          “I bet Canada is excited. I know I get excited when I get a new boss.”

          Germany grimaced, “It’s difficult when a new boss comes onto the scene. Explaining everything about the nations never gets any easier.”

          “Oh, yeah… usually, I have Lovino with me and the two of us can convince the new boss that we nations exist and everything is ok.”

          “I do something similar,” Japan said, “Usually, I bring along the prefecture that a boss is from and that opens up conversations.”

          “I think bringing along Gilbert would only bring up more questions than answers.” Germany knew that his brother never liked being serious for long if he could help it. Even if it was for a boss.

          “He’d make it fun,” Italy suggested.

          Germany gave Italy a look. “You know what he can be like.”

          Italy shrugged. “How’s he doing, by the way? I heard something happened with his hand?”

          “He thought it would be funny trying to get Blackie into a costume.” Germany was still not amused with what happened when he got home that day. There were tattered pieces of what once was a fairy dog dress all over the backyard, and Prussia’s hand was bleeding. It didn’t take long to clean it up, however Prussia did hide his hand for a few weeks after that. “He’s fine, though… I think he has a boyfriend.”

          “And he hasn’t announced it?” Japan asked humored, “That seems odd for him.”

          “I think it’s because whoever he is dating doesn’t want it to be public yet. There have been a few times where he’s wanted to say something but stops short. All I know is that he calls his boyfriend "Birdy" and he lives somewhere cold.”

          Japan looked thoughtful. “I’m sure he can’t stay quiet for that much longer.”

          “That or he will explode,” Italy suggested. Germany gave Italy an unamused look. “I’m only kidding, Lud.”

          The conversation then switched over to why Japan and Greece were in Spain’s country. Germany drifted back to his book, keeping an ear out to the conversation. Apparently, Japan and Greece had been seeing each other more and more. Not dating per say yet, though with the way Japan talked about Greece, Germany wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them started dating in the near future. That got Germany thinking about his own relationship status. He had crushes in the past, sure, but he never acted on them. In more recent years, he only really had eyes for Italy… but he didn’t have the courage to ask the Italian to date him. Not after what happened 70 years ago. But that was also 70 years ago…

          Italy was the first to fall asleep. Germany thought the Italian had been a bit too quiet for too long. Japan made sure Italy was covered before going over to the mat.

          “I can take it, Japan,” Germany said, getting up.

          “It’s alright, Ludwig,” Japan waved Germany’s offer away with a hand, “I really don’t mind.”

          “Kiku, I’m younger than you. Let me sleep on the mat.”

          “If you insist. Just promise me you’ll go to sleep soon. I know how you get when you are reading.”

          That made Germany chuckle lightly. “I’ve gotten better.” He got off the couch to let Japan turn in.

          “I should hope so.”

          It was nice, Germany thought as he turned in for the night, to be with his friends again. He cherished these times more than anything else in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't think too much about Italy's stay up late game. I wasn't thinking when I originally writing it, and I kinda didn't want to change it when I figured out the logic of it. Japan went along with it because he thought it was funny, and he likes to see Italy smile, like the rest of us do.
> 
> I thought I was not going to get this up today, but I did it (fires confetti cannon in celebration). This is it for this week's update. Until next week.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one actually dies. Romano just gets really injured and Spain can't think clearly. I wanted to make that absolutely clear.

_Spain didn’t like how close he was to the trenches. There was a reason he stayed out of the war. He wanted no part of it. There was already a lot of relationship strains because of how the war broke out. No one actually knew where he was; Spain certainly wasn’t going to tell his boss about this trip. He wasn’t going to the trenches to join the war. He was going because he was worried about Romano._

_Several weeks ago, he had received a letter from Romano, complaining about the war and talking about how sick he was for home. The last paragraph made Spain worry: “We’re moving out tomorrow. I don’t have a lot of men left and certainly not a lot of confidence that this is going to end well. See you when this stupid war is over, or when you actually decide to be useful.” There wasn’t much Spain could do to enter a war that he or his people wanted nothing to do with, but… at the same time… he wanted to make sure Romano was still in one piece. For his own sanity._

_Spain brought his helmet low as he walked about. Maybe he could find a messenger who knew some of the soldiers from the front. Maybe one of them would know the name Lovino Vargas._

_Spain passed by the sick ward. A cold chill ran down his spine as a pervasive thought entered his mind. Spain swallowed his fear and entered in. The sick ward was a buzz, with people running about moving bodies covered in cloth. Keeping his head down, he passed by each of the beds, trying to find Romano. It was a good thing that he had this weird curl._

_“Spagna?” a weak voice called out. It was very quiet, but Spain heard it nevertheless._

_Spain turned and saw Romano. The Italian nation looked close to death. His skin was sickly and his half opened eyes had no light in them. Spain rushed to Romano’s bedside, shaking. “No… please, tell me this is a joke.”_

_“So, you decided to come help after all,” Romano said, slightly annoyed, “A little late for that.”_

_“Romano, please. I’m… I’m here to, ah, take you home. You were…”_

_It took a lot of effort on Romano’s part to lift his hand and press it against Spain’s cheek. “Tell Veneziano that he better not fuck up.” Romano’s hand fell and he closed his eyes._

_“Romano?” Spain said quietly, “Romano? Hey!” Spain tried to find a pulse on Romano. Was he still breathing? A tear rolled down Spain’s cheek as his shaking got worse._

_“How does it feel?” said a quietly vicious voice. Spain turned around and saw a person in a cloak and a headdress that resembled an eagle, “How does it feel to have everything taken from you?”_

_Spain woke up on his ship, jerked out of the first dream he really had in a while. He sat up, breathing heavy for a moment or two, trying to compose himself. Tears were running down his face and there was nothing he could do about them._ **Goddamn it, Antonio. Why won’t you wake up?** _Spain looked up at the ceiling of the room. For a second he though he heard Romano’s voice. But that was impossible. Right? Romano was all the way back in his homeland and certainly no where near the open sea where Spain was now._

_Unless… none of this was real…_

_“Are you being serious?” England asked, looking at Spain as if he had lost his mind._

_“Si, completely,” Spain replied. The two of them were out on the deck, in an area where there weren’t too many sailors around so they could speak freely. Though, Spain could feel Captain García and Captain Henderson’s eyes watching them with a curious interest._

_“I cannot believe that,” England stated flatly, “Everything is a dream? Really?”_

_“What’s so hard to believe about it?”_

_“It’s too crazy. I have complete memories about being here.”_

_“So does anyone in a dream.” Though Spain wasn’t so sure why he was out at sea._

_England sighed. “Alright, fine. Let’s entertain the idea. Where is your proof?”_

_“Some things, Inglaterra, you just have to feel for yourself,” Spain said mysteriously. No, he wasn’t sure what proof he had of his idea that didn’t sound sane._

_“So you don’t have any.” England did not look at all impressed._

_“No, I do. But you won’t believe it.”_

_“Just spit it out,” England crossed his arms over his chest and waited in anticipation for Spain’s answer._

_“I hear voices in my head.” Once Spain said the words, he cringed at how it sounded._

_England looked even less impressed. “And that alone deems all this as a dream?”_

_Spain shrugged, frustratedly. He did believe that it was a dream, he could feel it. There was something fake about everything around him… except for England. England was real enough. The only issue was a question that had been nagging at him: why couldn’t he wake up if this was a dream?_

_“Do you have a chess board here?” England asked out of the blue._

_“Sure, but if you expect me to play, I will have to disappoint you in saying I am not good at all.”_

_“Really?” England asked incredulously, an amused look on his face, “I highly doubt that. I suspect that you, sir, are just afraid of losing.”_

_“I never said anything about backing out of a challenge,” Spain said with a devilish grin._

_The two admirals went back to Spain’s quarters and Spain pulled out a chess set. The pieces of this one were specially designed; one side was Spanish while the other side was English._

_England picked up the English king piece. “Is this really how you see me?” England asked._

_Spain took a closer look at the piece and laughed. “Not really, except for the eyebrows. I think this person based the design off of King Charles I of your country.”_

_“No wonder I don’t like the look of him,” England grumbled as he placed the piece in the right spot._

_Spain took out his king piece, which was made to look like him. When he first asked the individual who made this, he wanted the English piece to look more like England, but didn’t know how to tell the guy, so Spain told the creator just to make the king piece look like an Englishman with thick eyebrows. Once Spain was done setting up the pieces, he looked over at England’s side. “Ready?”_

_“You first,” England said, “After all, you are the captain here.”_


	8. Chapter 8

          Japan originally thought he was the first one awake the next morning. Germany was still asleep, and the first assumption was that Italy would be too. He always woke up last. Except, the couch that Italy claimed was empty. Upon investigation, Japan found the Italian working with dough in the kitchen.

          “Morning, Kiku,” Italy said cheerily.

          “Ohayōgozaimasu,” Japan said confused, “While I applaud you waking early for once, I know that you never would unless Ludwig forced you to or something was wrong.”

          “I’m fine.” Italy said quickly.

          As Japan looked at his friend, he could tell that Italy wasn’t doing too well. “Feliciano, you have bags under your eyes.”

          Italy stopped fiddling with the dough. “I know I never told you or Lud about this,” he started saying, immediately making Japan very nervous, “But back then, I didn’t want either of you to think I was weak. No one really understood it at the time. I’m prone to having nightmares more than most people. It gets worse when I’m stressed, or if there’s a war, or if Venice is flooding, or…”

          Japan raised a hand, “I get it.” He did remember, during WW2, that Italy usually had a tired look in his eyes. It wasn’t obvious because Italy was trying hard to convince everyone that he was fine, but Japan did. He thought that was just Italy. It would explain why the Italian could and did fall asleep everywhere. “So, what is going on now… besides Spain?”

          “…I think Venice might be flooding again. The dream I had was of me drowning there. But I don’t have any messages about it…” Italy’s phone buzzed. He picked it up and read the message he received. “Welp, there it is. Venice is flooded.”

          “Is there anything I can do to help?”

          Italy thought about it for a moment. “If you see I’m having a nightmare, wake me? I’d rather be tired than scared shitless.”

          Japan nodded with conviction. “Hai. If you don’t mind me asking, do you not know how to swim?”

          “Oh, no I do. You kinda have to learn quickly being in a city made from rivers. Though, there was one time when I was smaller where I almost drowned…” Italy’s voice trailed off as he started thinking about the memory. He reached for his rosary in his pocket, feeling one of the beads on it.

          “It’s ok. You don’t have to say.”

          “No, no, no. It’s not all that bad. Well, I almost did die, but I was scooped up by someone very cute. He was very flustered the whole time trying to revive me.”

          “Oh, and who was this rescuer? It sounds like he stole your heart.”

          Italy smiled in a way that Japan had only really seen him do when he talked about Germany. “He did… not with that display, but in other ways. He…”

          At that moment, Germany entered the kitchen.

          “Oh, morning, Ludwig,” Italy said, turning his attention away from his little story, “Did you sleep well?”

          “Ja… considering I was on the floor…”

          “We can make a pillow fort next time. Those are always very comfortable. I do it all the time at home, when it’s raining. Sometimes I can get Lovino to join me, or Sebastian if he is visiting. Oh, and by the way,” Feliciano, after quickly washing his hands, took out a plate in the fridge and warmed it up in the oven. “I made you breakfast since you would be heading out so early.”

          Japan wondered when Italy got up that morning. Germany glanced at Japan, probably looking for an explination. Japan merely shrugged, not sure what to say. “Danke, Feliciano,” Germany eventually said.

          Italy beamed.

 

          Romano didn’t go downstairs for breakfast. He didn’t feel all that hungry and he figured someone had to watch Spain. Who knows if he was going to have another lung attack and actually chuck something up? ‘Why did you do this?’ Romano thought sadly.

          A knock came from the door, and Greece came in with a tray from breakfast and a book tucked underneath his arm. Without a word, Greece put the tray in front of Romano and took the glass of water to give to Spain. They all learned from yesterday that it would be best to keep him hydrated.

          “What’s this for?” Romano said staring at the food in front of him.

          “You. Since you didn’t come get it yourself.”

          “And who said I was hungry?”

          Greece didn’t acknowledge the question. That was the thing about Greece that Romano didn’t get. He was aloof in the weirdest ways.

          Romano took a bit of the egg. It didn’t really taste like anything.

          “You know,” Greece eventually spoke up, “Staying in here isn’t good for you.”

          “Someone has to watch him.”

          “True, but not you.” Romano made to complain, but Greece shushed him, “If there was more to do to take care of him, it would be fine. But all there is to do is to sit and wait. I have something to read anyway. You should be doing something.”

          “Why?” Romano took a bite of toast.

          “It’s no secret you love him.”

          Romano accidentally choked on the toast. “How the fuck do you know?”

          “Everyone knows. Everyone has seen the way you and Spain are when around each other. We’re all waiting for it to be official. You have to be busy. Surely there is something you can do here.”

          Was it really that obvious? Romano highly doubted it. “I’m not cleaning,” he grumbled.

          “Never said you had to.” Greece looked out the window where the tomato field was visible, “What about the garden? Isn’t it harvest time?”

          Romano also looked outside. The tomatoes out in the garden were very close to being ripe. Not quite there yet. Italy suddenly came into view, trying to get control of the water hose. Japan then showed up, helping Italy with said hose. It didn’t do much, and both of them ended up crashing into a few of the tomato plants. Romano slowly shook his head and gritted his teeth.

          “Fine, but you better not screw anything up with him,” Romano walked out of the room. Greece grinned, but Romano was already out the door when he did so.

          After putting on some working clothes and a sun hat, Romano went out to the garden. Italy and Japan were still trying to wrangle the hose, water shooting out of it. Romano rolled his eyes, and turned the water off.

          “We would have gotten it, Lovi,” Italy said, still holding the limp hose.

          “Sure, and taken half the garden with you. If you want to help, fine, but you two listen to me, ok?” He sure wasn’t about to let two idiots ruin a perfectly good tomato garden.

          “Hai, sir,” Japan saluted Romano.

          Italy did the same. “It would be a shame to let perfectly good tomatoes go to waste.”

          Romano nodded, “Get some gloves on, first. In the shed.”

          Italy and Japan saluted again before running off. Romano looked out over the garden. There was a lot of work to be done, because Spain wasn’t paying much attention to it in the past few weeks. ‘You’re going to get an earful about this when you wake up,’ Romano thought, putting on his own gloves, ‘You know better than to let a garden overgrow.’ He took a deep breath. This, here, in any place in the world, was his territory.

 

          _Romano walked through the tomato fields, trying to get lost in them. He was sick of being with Spain and Spain’s house. He just wanted to go home. He missed the sights of Rome, the dusty streets… the ruins of his grandfather’s great nation. There was a connection he could feel when he was in Rome, that he could not feel anywhere else. A sense of belonging. The only other place he could really replicate it was out in the fields._

_Something caught his eye. In a place that had a good view of the sun, hung a perfect tomato, already ripe and ready to be harvested. None of the others seemed to be ready, and that threw Romano off. He knelt down and inspected it carefully before taking it off the stalk and gently putting it in his hat. If one was done, who was to say that there weren’t others that were ready to be picked._

_Romano spent the rest of the afternoon, carefully going through the fields, making sure there weren’t any other tomatoes ready to be picked. He also pulled out weeds that others had missed. As the sun was setting, Romano found his way out of the fields, right where Spain was looking out very concerned._

_“Romano!” Spain said, relief was in his voice, “Where have you been?” He saw the tomatoes._

_“You need to higher better farmers,” Romano pouted, walking past Spain into the house. Romano looked at the tomatoes he had found, and smiled to himself. If the early harvest looked this good, he couldn’t wait to see what the main harvest would bring._

_“You found those?” Spain asked, catching up to Romano._

_“Si. Also, there were a lot of weeds around. And guess what, there are a lot of pests too.”_

_Spain smiled, and ruffled up Romano’s hair. “Good work today, underling.”_

_Romano would have told Spain off, not to call him underling and all that, but Spain’s smile… “Really?”_

_“Si, I’m proud of you. I wish you could have told me though. I would have helped.”_

_Those words stayed with Romano for the rest of the evening. He did something right for a change. He did something that made Spain proud. Maybe, Romano did have something no one else did. Something he could be the best at._


	9. Chapter 9

          _The_ Asuncion _docked at the harbor of Cuba without any trouble at all. Spain’s crew were experts at steady dockings. It was a beautiful day, and Spain was very glad for it. However, as he, England, Captain García, and Captain Henderson left the boat and started walking into town, he knew something was off. There weren’t any people walking about. No one was on the other boats that were docked. No dock masters looking for new boats out on the horizon. Not even a stray cat looking for food. Nothing. It was a ghost town._

_“Well, this place is certainly quiet,” England commented, tugging at his collar._

_“It usually isn’t,” Spain said. There was no smell on the air, not even of the salt water lapping up on the docks. It was as if nothing was supposed to be there. Another checked box for “this is all a dream” theory._

_“Maybe it’s the heat.”_

_“It’s not that bad. It’s been worse out here.”_

_“Oh joy.”_

_“Come now,” Spain said, bumping England in the arm, “The fresh air will do us both some good. We’ve been on a stuffy ship for God knows how long.”_

_“Mmm. Sure. If I can breathe.”_

_“You are not used to the heat?” Spain asked slowly._

_“My country is usually cool and rainy. Not… tropic. I feel like I am in an oven.”_

_“So_ that’s _why you stuck with the Northern Americas.” Spain had always casually wondered about that._

_“That wasn’t the original intention, but that’s how it worked out.”_

_Spain laughed and took a deep breath. It was a warm day, with a warm breeze slowly brushing through the palm trees of the area. It was nice being on solid ground once again, at least for Spain. It was clear that England didn’t feel as comfortable. There was a glazed look in his eyes._

_“There’s something I want to show you. It’s out of town, but I think you’ll enjoy it.”_

_“And what is it?” England asked slowly._

_“A giant waterfall. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Though it is hidden very well. Most people don’t know it even exists. I accidentally stumbled across it my first time here. To be honest, I kinda got lost and there it was: this giant waterfall. I spent several days around that area, trying to find my way back. I felt so stupid once I figured out how close I was to port.” Spain turned to make sure England was still there, since he was being so quiet. “Are you sure you’re ok, Inglaterra?” The Englishman did seem paler that he usually was._

_“Hm? Oh, sure. Yes, a waterfall does sound lovely.” He held his head with his right hand._

_“… take a seat,” Spain pointed to a bench nearby, “You look like you’re about to pass out. Here.”_

_England took the flask Spain handed him._

_“Almirante,” Captain García said, saluting, “Permission to walk about town with Captain Henderson.”_

_“Si, permission granted. Be back before sunset.” The captains said thanks and they traveled onward. The two of them had become very close, and it made Spain wonder why. Captain García didn’t like becoming close with just anyone._

_“I’m glad Captain Henderson found a friend,” England said, a small smile on his face._

_“And why is that?”_

_“For the past year or so, he kept saying that there wouldn’t be anyone in the world who could understand his trouble.” England’s smile grew, “I think I can now rub it in his face that I was right, and that the world has more people like him in it.”_

_“I think anyone could have told him that.”_

_“It’s complicated. Let’s just say, I could see where he was coming from.” England looked out at the distance for a time, watching the two captains stop a ways away, and started talking to one another. Spain thought it was impressive how the two of them could communicate without having a common language. “I still like being right though. Now, you wanted to show me this waterfall?”_

_“Are you sure, England? If you aren’t feeling up to it, it’s fine.”_

_“I’m am absolutely qu…” England stood up, but he stopped. His eyes were unfocused. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back as he fell face forward to the ground. Spain caught him, sort of. It ended up that Spain was kneeling on the ground with England’s face in his shoulder._

_“Well, this is an unexpected turn of events,” Spain said out loud, slightly joking._

_“Admiral!” Captain Henderson came running over, Captain García close on his heels. “What happened?” Spain half expected Captain Henderson to be pulling out a sword, but he just looked concerned._

_“It’s the heat,” Spain explained to the British Captain. He ushered both captains to help with England. “Demasiado caliente para él,” Spain explained to Captain García._

_“¿En serio?” Captain García looked at England, then at Captain Henderson, who made the gesture for “a little”._

_The three of them made easy work bringing England back aboard the ship and into a bed. Captain Henderson grabbed a cloth, dipped it in water, and put it over England’s head. The British captain had his lips pursed the entire time, like he was holding back a comment. When Captain García asked about it, Captain Henderson said, “He likes doing this. Putting up this farce of being fine when he isn’t, and then something like this happens. Does he do the same thing?” Captain Henderson gestured at Spain._

_Captain García gestured the “so-so” sign. “Solo cuando él está impresionando a alguien. Por ejemplo, tu.”_

_“…so, all the time, then?”_

_Captain García had a hard time trying not to laugh out loud. He composed himself, and asked Spain if the two of them were still free to explore town. Spain agreed, but reminded the two of them to be back before sundown. They both agreed and left the room._

_“Maybe next time, I will show you,” Spain said to England, even though he knew that the other couldn’t hear him, “I think you would find it really nice. Especially since you can’t handle any sort of heat.” Spain laughed half-heartedly at his own joke._

_He sighed. It had been a long time since he had been to Cuba. He remembered being on the island for what seemed like an eternity… It was around the time he started meeting the American nations… Spain closed his eyes as the memory almost enveloped his senses…_

_Spain was in an old uniform that he wore back when the Americas were first being discovered. He was in the middle of a forest following closely the footsteps of Germnimo de Aguilar. Behind Spain were a few soldiers, who by that point in the journey were grumbling._

_Aguilar halted the expedition party suddenly. “We stop here,” was all he said._

_“Why?” Spain asked, walking past, “We haven’t seen anything.” He was getting fed up. First, Aguilar wanted to show him something apparently very important, but not important enough to say what it was. Spain was sort of ok with that since he was getting tired of Cuba. But then Aguilar wanted to take Spain without any sort of back up, which Spain thought was stupid. By the accounts that his men had brought, there were hostile things living in the area. As much as Spain was a fighter, he still didn’t want to get ambushed. The compromise was only bringing two soldiers, though Aguilar kept insisting that they weren’t needed. And then, they walked over hours and hours without seeing anything remarkable._

_“No, you misunderstand. You, Antonio, will go on. We, the men, stay here. There is someone who wants to meet with you… alone.”_

_Spain did not like this plan. “Not even one soldier? Not even you?”_

_Aguilar shook his head. “This person… was very insistent.”_

_Spain sighed, but agreed begrudgingly. He desperately hoped this would reveal something interesting… in the good way. Something he would write home to Romano about. He owed that much to the kid. Spain trudged on, cutting leaves and bushes down to clear a way forward in the hot, sticky forest. He eventually reached a clearing, empty of any sign of life save for a small stone structure that looked odd. He kicked it, and it crumbled into a pile._

_“We haven’t even spoke,” said an undistinguishable voice in the nation dialect, “And you already make a grand statement.” Spain blinked. He never heard a voice like it before. Not with that much authority. It was not specific as to what kind of person was talking. If he was to put a label on it, Spain would say it was ethereal._

_From the forest came through several different people in garb that Spain had never seen before. They were all strange and outlandish, but there was one thing that Spain recognized immediately: these were all nations. Each of these people had hardened faces… save for a child who wore a headpiece that reminded Spain of an eagle. The child looked scared._

_“So, these people who have come to our shores with weapons come from nations of their own,” said the voice. The person to whom it belonged… it wasn’t clear to Spain if they were a man or a woman, and that made Spain a little uncomfortable. They wore a cape and a headdress like the child’s in the shape of an eagle. “What brings you here?”_

_“My people seek to explore,” Spain said, lightly resting his hand on his sword in case things got messy. On first impressions, these nations didn’t need to know anything more than that. It wasn’t their business._

_“Surely not for the sake of it,” said a woman in a tan dress. Her voice was melodic, but harsh all the same. “There is a purpose that brings you here.”_

_Spain didn’t like being read. “…you catch on well.”_

_“Asking is a curtesy. I know why you come.” She gave Spain a hard look, “I wish to hear it from you personally.”_

_Spain was very confused, but more than that, he felt set up. “We come here to explore. To get what we can from here to make our country better. Now, who are all of you?”_

_The woman in tan’s face was still hard, and her eyes began to glow. Spain was surprised; he had only seen England’s eyes do that. When they dimmed back to normal, she sighed and said, “I am_ _Diné_ _. My people are from the north of this place.”_

_“I am Tenochtitlán,” said the one who spoke first, “I rule the lands near here.”_

_The others gathered introduced themselves: Itza, Kowoj, and Tahuantinsuyu. The child was called Mexico._

_“We know of your people’s treachery,” Tenochtitlán continued once introductions were done, “What we wonder is if there is a chance for peace?” The look on their face… there was a fire in their eyes…_

_Spain blinked and he was back on the ship. Tenochtitlán’s eyes… Mexico certainly inherited them. All the colonies he had in South America… they all had similar eyes. He feared them, greatly. ‘Maybe that was why they brought out the cruelest in me…’_

_Spain felt a pang of guilt. He knew that wasn’t completely true. He could have listened to them. He gotten to know them better.  He could have been kinder. But he wasn’t, and that was what got burned in the memory banks of history._

_Spain blinked again. What time was he in? He started pacing around his quarters, clearing out his head. Visions of phones, cars, and light as luminous as the sun flickered in his mind. He no longer belonged in the 1700’s._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New nations! The names used in the story would be how they would have introduced themselves; they are not how they are remembered in history because the winners choose the names. So, here they are as follows: Tenochtitlán is the Aztec (or at least one tribe that make up the Aztec), Diné is the nation of the Navajo, Itza and Kowoj are parts of the Mayan people, and Tahuantinsuyu is the Inca. Mexico is Mexico and would have first been brought up by Tenochtitlán until that nation fell to the Spanish.
> 
> Translation notes: Demasiado caliente para él - It's too hot for him.  
> Solo cuando él está impresionando a alguien. Por ejemplo, tu. - Only when he is impressing someone. Like you. (and this should be taken that he is trying to be an impressive captain who has no weakness sort of deal)


	10. Chapter 10

          Greece had not gotten far with reading Spain’s notebook. There were two main issues with doing so. The first was that it was written in Spanish. Greece knew that going in, and with the invention of google translate, wasn’t too fazed by it. However, the second reason made the notebook close to impossible to read: Spain’s terrible handwriting. Not only was it in cursive, it was also small and sloppy. The words were written very close together and, while very pretty at a distance, was a nightmare to translate up close.

          The information that Greece was able to determine was that Spain was working on his little project for quite a while. At least a decade, based on what the dates had shown. However, he made some sort of breakthrough in the past few months. But as to what he was doing, Greece still had no idea.

          Greece eventually closed the book and double checked on Spain. No change, not that Greece was expecting any at that point. The wound in the back of his head had fully healed, so he didn’t need the bandage anymore. That was good. Spain also hadn’t had a coughing spasm in a while. Things were looking up, besides the fact that Spain was still completely unresponsive.

          Greece thought back to the days when he watched his mother heal people. Sometimes, she would get patients who were in comas and they never woke up. Their fingers, toes, and lips turned blue after a time. That was the first sign of things turning array. So far, that hadn’t happened with Spain.

          “Ciao, Greece,” Italy said, coming into the room. He looked tired, and a bit dirty. No doubt Romano was keeping him busy in the garden as well. “Any change?”

          Greece shook his head.

          “…do you really think we have to take him to a hospital?”

          “Unless you have a suggestion on how to wake him up.”

          “We could always get some camembert… or Romano’s worn socks.” Italy glanced over at the book, “Did… did you learn anything more about what Spain was doing?”

          Greece shook his head. “The ambrosia he was working with must be keeping him under. It’s definitely powerful enough to do that.”

          “Why would he be working with it to begin with?”

          “I have a feeling it’s because of Romano.”

          Italy looked at Greece questioningly. “How?”

          “Depends what he was making. But I think this was to be the gift he was talking about. Whatever he made from it…” A thought crossed Greece’s mind… something he had thought about once a long time ago. But… it couldn’t be. “Can you read his handwriting?”

          Italy looked through the book and shook his head. “It’s atrocious… but maybe I can get Romano to. When he gets back in.”

          Suddenly, Spain groaned. His eyes were partially open and he was looking at Italy.

          “Antonio! You’re ok!” Italy exclaimed.

          Greece, while glad that Spain was awake, knew that nation wasn’t ok. His eyes were glossed over and his expression was blank. “Spain?” Greece asked quietly.

          “Donde…” Spain barely let out before he passed out again.

          Greece checked Spain’s vitals. The good news was that he was only sleeping. His pulse wasn’t as low as it was before.

          “He’s ok, right?” Italy asked. He looked nervous.

          “The healing process takes a long time. But, it seems that he is coming around. Patience.”

          Italy nodded. “I’m going to go find Romano. I’m sure that he would like to hear about this.” Without another word, Italy ran out of the room.

          Greece looked back at Spain. “I hope you do know, that when you wake up, Romano is going to be on your ass,” he said, a small smile growing on his face. It was good to know that he was going to be alright.

 

          Romano went back inside the house of his own accord. Sure, Italy told him Spain woke up for two seconds, but he really didn’t want to see him if he wasn’t going to be awake. No, he went back for a different reason. A thought that occurred to him of a letter he hid when he was younger. He wondered if Spain ever found it. He highly doubted it, but the thought kept nagging him as he tended to the plants. Since it wouldn’t go away, Romano decided to find out for himself.

          He walked up to Spain’s study, trying to remember the book he left it in. He figured it would be on a lower shelf, since he wrote it when he was smaller. When he opened the door, he found Japan there, his hair covered with a white handkerchief and a feather duster in his hand.

          “Ah, Ohayō, Romano.”

          “Yo.” Romano walked strait to a book shelf.

          “I never realized Spain was a cartographer,” Japan said, admiring the maps on the walls.

          “He had to be. He explored a lot of the Americas.” Romano remembered the many nights that Spain stayed up late, drawing and redrawing maps. It made Spain frustrated usually, and would be in a fowl mood the next day if things didn’t go well.

          “So… he made these?” Japan pointed to some of the framed maps hung in the room.

          “Those two, no. They’re too fancy and well done. He can draw maps, but anything else is shit. Like, this sea serpent here? It would look like a squiggle if he ever tried. But this one…” Romano pointed to the one right behind the desk in the room, “That one he did. It took a really long time for him to finish.”

          “What is it for?” Japan asked, looking at it.

          “Secret spots over South America. Things he found when exploring. He hasn’t taken me to any of them.” This wasn’t out of not asking. It just seemed that every time they were going to go to one, something came up. The last time, a few months ago, they were going to go to the spot where the Fountain of Youth was supposed to be, but then Romano had to go back home… It was like their relationship was cursed. And they weren’t even in one.

          “There is a lot of them.”

          “There are more, but who knows how to get to them now. The knowledge died with the nations that were there before, probably.” Romano started looking for that book. He had no clue what he was looking for. He knew that he just chose a random book when he had shoved the letter in there.

          “That is tragic.”

          Romano half shrugged as he continued searching. He went book by book, flipping through the pages, seeing if any had a letter stuck inside. He went through ten books before Japan asked what he was doing. “I’m looking for something.”

          “Well, what is it? Maybe I can…”

          “No.” Romano snapped shut the book he was holding and put it back in its spot. The last thing he wanted was someone else to read his letter… How embarrassing was it that Spain could have read it?

          Japan backed off and continued to clean in a different part of the room.

          Romano looked at the new book he held, one about how to read sea charts properly. He reconsidered the offer. “…I’m looking for a letter,” Romano explained, “It was for Spain… I just… want to know if he got it…”

          “And it is in one of these books?” Japan asked questioningly.

          “I thought it was a good idea at the time,” Romano said as calmly as possible. He knew Japan wasn’t actually criticizing him, and it was hard for him not to react in that way. “I wanted him to read it… but not when I was there…”

          “That is one way to do it.”

          Romano gritted his teeth and continued to flip through books.

          Eventually, Japan found something. The book in his hand was one about lost treasures around the world. In his right was the letter Romano had been looking for. The wax seal on it was still intact.

          Romano took the letter, both relieved and greatly disappointed. All his feelings about Spain, still sealed away. That meant that he would have to say it all out loud… with Spain looking at him…

          “Are you ok, Romano?” Japan asked, after Romano was quiet for a long time.

          “Sure, yeah, I’m fine. Everything is fine.” Romano said this way too loud.

          “I don’t mean to pry, but I really doubt it is.”

          “And what business is it of yours if it isn’t?”

          “None, as long as you don’t take it out on me.” Japan slightly bowed, then made to leave the room.

          “…It’s a confession,” Romano said, “A really dumb, poorly written confession to Antonio. I just… wanted to know if he ever read it.” Now Romano knew. He had hoped that maybe Spain had read it and that maybe he would give a hint that he read it like why Romano’s handwriting was sloppy or his spelling was horrendous… something… anything… Romano crunched up the letter in his fist. ‘No… Spain would never do something like that. He’s always straightforward.’

          Japan looked at Romano for a moment, then walked over to him and wrapped his hands around Romano’s fist clutching the letter. “You’re feelings are not dumb,” Japan said, “But… confessions are better done in spoken words.”

          Romano nodded solemnly. He knew what Japan said was true, and it would have been something that Grandpa Rome would have told him too. Don’t be afraid of your words. “Antonio better fucking wake up soon then.” Romano wanted Spain to be better again. Waiting like this was killing him… Greece was right.

 

          _“Come on!” Italy shouted back at Germany, “We’re almost out!” They were in a long and dark tunnel that Russia had found. They were all going to get out alive. Finally._

_Italy and Germany ran with their hands intertwined. They were the last two, guarding the others so that they could all get out. Germany was the obvious choice, being one of the strongest of the group. Italy, the least obvious choice, had proven himself to fend off the fiend. It’s amazing the kind of weapon a flag pole can make to the desperate._

_Suddenly, Germany’s hand was wrenched forcefully from Italy’s. Italy looked back, dropping his little blood stained white flag out of shock. Germany was held in a threatening position by Holy Roman Empire, now grown. There was a knife at Germany’s neck._

_“Please!” Italy screamed, “Let him go! We won. Please.” His voice became fainter as he spoke._

_“So, then, you will take his place,” Holy Roman Empire said, “And stay with me in this mansion.”_

_The ages upon ages of suffering Italy had endured in the mansion was brought back to mind, and Italy fell to his knees in despair. Was there really no way out for everyone?_

_“But… isn’t that ok?” Holy Roman Empire lifted Italy’s head so that their eyes met, “You would chose me anyway, wouldn’t you?”_

Italy woke up, trying desperately not to scream, shout, or cry out loud. His shoulders shook from both frustration and fear. It had been a while since he had a dream about the blood mansion, as he had come to understand it. It was a reoccurring dream he had, that started after Japan was showing everyone a few games from his country, one of them being Ao Oni. Afterwards, Italy came to the conclusion that he shouldn’t really watch any more horror (either as a movie or as a game) from Japan’s country.

          Italy hugged his knees. It had become more of a trend for him to have dreams where either Germany’s or Holy Roman Empire’s or both their lives were in danger, and there was no way to save them both and so he had to choose between them. There was also no winning for him in the dreams. It aggravated him.

          Italy looked around the guest room that he was sharing with Japan; he still had a fear of sleeping alone. Everything was quiet in the room, save for his own labored breathing and the clock ticking. Based from Italy’s phone clock, it was well past one in the morning.

          Italy quietly walked out of the room, hoping to clear his head a little by going outside. He noticed that Romano’s room still had a light on in it. After debating whether or not to bother his brother about his recent nightmare episode, he walked up to the door and knocked on it quietly.

          Romano opened the door and had a very pissed off look on his face. “What?” he asked roughly. Then he sighed and asked a little kinder, “Another nightmare?”

          Italy nodded.

          “Come on,” Romano pulled his brother inside and closed the door. “What was it about this time?”

          Italy sat at the edge of the bed in the room. On the bedside table sat a crumpled letter written in scribbles. Before he could make out any of the supposed words, Romano had shoved the letter into a drawer. “I really don’t think you want to hear about this one,” Italy told his brother.

          “Nothing you tell me is going to surprise me anymore,” Romano said, shoving a pillow in Italy’s chest. Italy cuddled it for comfort. “You already promised you’d tell me because we both know what happens when you don’t talk.”

          Italy groaned and said very quietly and quickly, “Holy Roman Empire kidnapped Germany and I had to sacrifice my freedom to save him.”

          Romano blinked, trying to piece what Italy just said. “Venziano…”

          “I know it’s stupid and that I need to move on, but I can’t and I don’t think I ever can and I hate it and…”

          Romano moved Italy’s face so that he could look into his eyes. “I was going to say I had no idea what you said. I’m too fucking tired to keep up with you like I normally can.”

          Italy relayed the dream as best he could. Romano knew all about this blood mansion. The escape was new for him. Italy got quiet. He didn’t say the last words Holy Roman Empire said; they still hurt him emotionally.

          Romano didn’t say anything. Not that Italy didn’t really need to hear Romano’s thoughts on the matter. He hated both individuals, something Italy still didn’t get. Romano put an arm around Italy, pulling his brother close. “You’re still shaking,” Romano eventually said.

          “…sorry.” Italy hugged the pillow tighter. “I feel really pathetic. When did it come to this? I used to be really cool.”

          “You became a lover,” Romano suggested.

          “I was always a lover though.”

          “Yeah, you have a point.”

          “Hey! I was cool when I was fighting Austria.”

          “You were…”

          “…Can I stay with you tonight?” Italy asked quietly.

          “Si. But you have to sleep.”

          Italy nodded. He really didn’t want to, but he knew that he wouldn’t function well without it.

          The two of them climbed into bed. Italy was still hugging the pillow Romano shoved at him, lying so that he could see Romano. Romano was facing a similar way, so he could see Italy. They stared at each other for a while. Italy could tell Romano was struggling to stay wake, just to make sure Italy was ok. It bothered him, that people had to take care of him. Sure, he was younger and such, but he could take care of himself…

          “Do you want me to sing to you? Will that help?”

          Italy sunk into the covers to hide his face.

          Romano sat up. “Hey, you promised.”

          Italy felt the covers being dragged away from him by Romano when he didn’t give a reply. “…ok…” he said quietly.

          Romano situated himself so that he was holding Italy. He started rocking gently back and forth and started humming a tune. Italy knew the original song was more upbeat, but it did sound nice being sung like a lullaby.

Volare ho ho

Cantare ho ho hoho

Nel blue dipinto di blu

Felice di stare lassú

          Italy closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the song. He imagined it as a waltz, with the dancers in vibrant, flowing colors. They danced around his head with elegance and grace. He allowed himself to put his whole weight against his brother’s chest.

          Next thing Italy knew, he was lying on the bed, looking out at the window. The moon was spilling into the room. Italy turned around; Romano was passed out cold next to him. Italy closed his eyes, trying to relax enough to fall asleep again. However, his mind kept wandering to darker parts of his imagination, and eventually, Italy had to get up again. He wanted out of his own head, but that was an impossible escape.

          Italy remembered the letter and glanced over at his brother for a moment, before making a grab for it. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Romano said sleepily, opening his eyes partially and looking up at Italy.

          Italy backed away, and in the end, went back to bed. He stared up at the ceiling and wished for morning to come swiftly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already guessed, the dream sequence in this chapter is inspired by Hetaoni. The headcannon in this is that part of the nightmares Italy gets are the stories from the fandom, since he usually is a main character in the hetagames.
> 
> The song is "Nel blu, dipinto di blu" or "Volare" by Franco Migliacci and Domenico Modugno. If you have not heard it, I highly recommend it because it is a great song; the Gipsy Kings have a really good cover of it.
> 
> That is it for this week's update. Next week: Spain talks to the two captains and continues to question his reality, Germany comes back, and Romano may or may not be able to translate Spain's shitty handwriting. As a heads up for next week: I'm going to be on vacation and won't be posting on Friday like I normally do. I hope to get the chapters out on Saturday, if all goes well. Until then.


	11. Chapter 11

          _Spain was not at all happy with the turn of things in New Spain. Things had always been difficult concerning controlling that region, but now it was even worse. Spain’s boss was getting a bit peeved, and that meant that Spain had to put his foot down. Crushing the leaders of the rebels was relatively easy once Spain got over to that region. So, now he had to have a stern talk with New Spain._

_“How long is this going to take?” Romano asked, trying to keep up with Spain. He had grown over the past few years, however, he was still shorter than Spain and had a harder time keeping up._

_“Not too long,” Spain said, though he had no way of knowing that. He first had to find New Spain._

_The nation in question was in a very secluded part of the capital city, where a small mound of stones was erected. There was a flower placed on top of it. He had short dark hair, sloppily cut. The clothes he wore were reminiscent of the rebels that Spain just had to put down. “Hola, diablo,” the nation muttered, not looking up from the pile._

_“Save it, New Spain,” Spain said, getting up to the nation, “We need to have a chat.”_

_“My name is Mexico,” the nation said, anger in his eyes, “And we have nothing to talk about. I want you out of my country.”_

_Spain kicked over the stone pile. “You belong to me, New Spain.”_

_Mexico looked at the scattered stones in a bit of shock, before looking back at Spain with a fiery anger in his eyes. “I refuse. For too long you have terrorized my people and I say no more. Get out!”_

_Spain quickly drew out his sword and made to strike Mexico. The other nation grabbed the blade of the sword with his right hand. Blood spilled down his arm._

_“Spagna,” Romano said, coming up and putting a hand on Spain’s arm, “You’re going to get no where here, except for a lot of blood with a lot of people watching. And that’s kind of stupid.”_

_Spain glared at Romano. It was a glare that with every other colony of his would make them back off. Not Romano; he met the gaze head on. Spain sheathed his sword and looked back at Mexico. “Get yourself to my office tomorrow morning. This discussion isn’t over.” With a turn of his heel, Spain walked off._

_Spain glanced behind to make sure Romano followed. He saw Romano and Mexico give a singular nod exchange. Mexico mouthed, “Gracias,” and Romano came running to Spain’s side._

_“You know,” Romano spoke up after the two of them walked back to Spain’s place in the town, “He’s not going to be the only one doing this kind of shit pretty soon. You better have a better way of dealing with it than a sword.”_

_“You make it sound like you’ll be next.”_

_“I could.”_

_Spain looked at Romano, whose clothes had changed to that of a soldier._

_“And would you strike me down too?”_

_Spain snapped out of his daydream. The fierceness of Romano’s eyes scared him. It was a similar fire that he had seen his other colonies have. But he didn’t mind Romano’s fire, and even liked it. Why was he so different?_

_Night had already come onto the ship. England was still passed out from his healing ritual earlier for his captain. The wound on… him… Spain slapped himself in the back of the head. Him, the captain was a him. ‘Get over yourself. This isn’t the first time you’ve met someone like him.’_

_Spain decided to take a walk on his ship and check in on the two captains. Maybe he could get some sort of story from Captain Henderson. Lights were being lit as he stepped out of his quarters. Their lights reflected in the water in a warm sort of way. The only thing that could be seen in every direction._

_Spain knocked on Captain García’s door and waited. The Spanish captain opened it, his uniform was off but his hair was still neatly combed. “Señor?”_

_“¿Puedo entrar?” Spain asked. Captain García stepped aside to let his admiral through._

_Captain Henderson sat on a stool, his shirt off showing bandages over his chest. He stood up and saluted as Spain walked in. “How can we help, sir?” he asked after Spain told him to be at ease._

_“I have a few questions to ask.”_

_Captain Henderson tensed. “Depends what you are asking.”_

_Spain remembered England being defensive about his captain’s dignity and decided to not be direct for once. “I want to know how you got on the sea. Someone like you never gets this far.”_

_“Do you want to bet?” Captain Henderson said, raising his eyebrow, “I’m sure you can think of one or two from your own country who defied the odds and did so anyway. Visibly or not.”_

_Spain could feel a crack in the reality of this place start to form. “Please, I would like to know yours.”_

_Captain Henderson sighed. “It took a lot for me to be a sailor. There were many hoops I had to pass, and things I had to hide in order for me to be one. Late nights reading by candlelight, studying mannerisms so that no one would question me, and working through paranoia. No one was there to guide me through, and so I was alone most of the time. Somehow, I was assigned onto Admiral Kirkland’s ship, which was in it of itself a high honor. He saw my skill as a navigator and promise of a leader and decided to make me a captain. It was after that he learned of the struggle I had to go through in order for people to see me.” Captain Henderson pointed to himself forcefully. “I… I really thought that there and then would be the end of me, let alone my career as a sailor. I had seen the admiral’s anger, and knew that it was treacherous. However, Admiral Kirkland didn’t seem to mind and from there did all that he could to keep me under his direct command and deflect anything that would attack my honor. I owe him everything that I am.”_

_Spain nodded. “If only you were born later…” he muttered, then stopped._

_“Why?”_

_Spain tried to steer away from the conversation, but Captain Henderson wasn’t having any of it. Eventually, Captain García sat Spain down and said, “Listen, we know as you do that none of this is real.”_

_Spain could feel a shift in the world around him, like the words had cracked the reality of this place. Sure, he already knew that this place wasn’t real, but he wasn’t expecting the denizens of this place to know this as well. He asked how his captain knew._

_“Señor, we are apart of you and Admiral Kirkland. The two of you know that this place isn’t real. It stands to reason we would know as well.”_

_“Since we are being all chummy and sharing stories, will you tell me how this one got under your command?” Captain Henderson said, then turned to look at Captain García, “You heard mine, I want to know yours.”_

_Spain looked at his captain, who said, “He knows about me… and what you are as well.”_

_Spain slowly looked back at Captain Henderson. “You know who I am?”_

_“Both you and Admiral Kirkland. It definitely has made a very interesting voyage, seeing the both of you. Admiral Kirkland told me he was Britain after he found out about me. He said it was only fair.”_

_Spain gathered his thoughts before telling the story, “I heard about Diego from a ship captain, saying that he had someone who was very in tune with the sea. I wasn’t impressed and wanted to see for myself. So, I sailed with this captain in order to see how good Diego was. The short story is that he proved me wrong.”_

_Captain García grinned._

_“A few years later, I was able to get him moved onto my ship. He was the best navigator I ever had.”_

_“Me conmueve.” Captain García said genuinely._

_“So… when did he profess his love to you?” Captain Henderson asked._

_Spain was stunned shocked; Captain García laughed. “It was after I moved to his ship,” the Spanish captain explained, “He overheard a speech I was giving about laying down my life for my country, and was deeply swayed by it.”_

_Spain remembered that day. He was in the other room when he heard Captain García speaking about his passion for his country. He was deeply moved. And of course, he didn’t leave so the good Captain García saw him blushing and flustered. It was a very awkward night, and they both came to the conclusion they were disaster gays… ‘Except, not in those words,’ Spain thought._

_“Did you ever think that your country would be an actual person?” Captain Henderson asked._

_“And also be attractive?” Captain García glanced over to Spain, “No, never in a thousand years. Yet, here we are.”_

_The crack of reality deepened. Nothing about the world around, except that it looked dreamlike and fake. Spain didn’t feel like he was really on a ship slowly rocking in the sea. He couldn’t smell the salt water or the lamp oil. He felt like he was watching a movie. And then, reality broke._

_Now, when this happens in a dream, usually it wakes a person up. However, Spain was still in the dream. He was still on the ship. But he had all his memories in place. “Why am I still here?”_

_“Señor,” Captain García said, “You hit your head hard and you were using something very powerful. I highly doubt your head will be in its right place for you to wake up for a while.”_

_“Besides, you still have some stuff to work out,” Captain Henderson spoke up, “For instance, what kind of person you are? And how you really feel about Lovino? After all, it’s because of him you got here in the first place.”_

_Spain was going to have to get used to both captains knowing a lot more than he was comfortable with them knowing. “Enough to be in a coma for,” Spain said quietly._

_Romano looked utterly exhausted. He and Spain were on a train, heading to a world meeting. Italy was somewhere else on the train, talking with some of the other occupants because he was a social butterfly._

_Spain eventually felt a weight on his shoulder. Romano fell asleep, as Spain had been expecting from his expression. He wondered what was going on with Romano. The train jerked unexpectedly, and Romano shot up, as wide awake as he could be._

_“Didn’t get sleep last night?” Spain asked once Romano calmed down a bit._

_“No, not for the past week,” Romano groaned. He put his head in his hands in frustration. Spain looked at Romano with pleading eyes for an explination. Romano looked at him, and groaned again. “It’s Veneziano… he’s been having nightmares again and there’s nothing I can do to alleviate them. It’s fucking annoying.”_

_“Nightmares?”_

_“Si. I told you before. Veneziano gets nightmares… it’s been getting worse though… since the end of WW2…”_

_“It’s been over a decade since then.”_

_Romano nodded._

_Spain thought about it for a moment. “Has he seen Germany yet?”_

_“Why would that potato bastard matter?”_

_“Calm down. It was only a question. The two of them were friends.”_

_“Yeah, except that he dumped his ass during the war.”_

_“And what was he like when that happened?”_

_Romano opened his mouth of object, then stopped as he actually thought about it. “He was a mess. He hated what he did. It tore him apart on the inside.”_

_“I think that he will be better after this meeting,” Spain said, “After all, this is the first one that Germany will be able to attend.”_

_“I really really hope you’re right.” Romano sighed heavily. He looked to be at wit’s end and could just fall asleep for a week straight._

_“We still have a bit to go before getting to the meeting. Take a siesta. I’ll wake you when we get there.”_

_Romano thought about it for a moment, then sighed and took Spain’s offer. He was out like a light in a matter of moments. Spain prayed that his theory was right, for Romano’s sake as much as Italy’s._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes: Puedo entrar - May I come in (essentially), Me conmueve - I'm moved (in the same line as in "I'm touched")


	12. Chapter 12

          Romano would be lying if he said he wasn’t tired. He was and it wasn’t just because of Italy coming in. Romano probably would have been up even later if it weren’t for Italy, so he had his younger brother to thank for being somewhat functioning. Not that he ever would say that out loud.

          The letter that he had given Spain was a mess. Romano had read it and he couldn’t believe that he wrote that… well, that he wrote it and thought it would be a good idea to leave it for Spain. It was embarrassing. It was a good thing Spain never found it.

          Romano rummaged around the drawers of Spain’s desks for a pen to rewrite the letter. The only issue was, for some reason, Spain had no pens. He had plenty of pencils, which were better for drawing maps. ‘But you couldn’t get one fucking pen?’ Romano thought as he slammed the drawer he was looking through closed, ‘Just one.’

          The door to the study opened and Greece came in. He was holding Spain’s notebook that supposedly explained what Spain was doing. Supposedly, since Romano really didn’t look at it or care.

          “What did you want?” Romano asked, moving onto the last drawer. There was one singular pen there, an old fountain pen. Romano had a sinking feeling that the ink had already been used up. “Do you have a pen?”

          Greece tilted his head slightly, “Isn’t that one?”

          Romano stared unconvincingly at the pen.

          “In any case, I was wondering if you would help me decipher this,” Greece handed Romano the notebook, “You have been with Spain the longest, it would make sense that you would be able to read his handwriting.”

          Romano opened up the notebook to the first page. “Not like it’s that hard to read,” he muttered. Spain’s handwriting wasn’t that bad, though it could have been from Romano being so used to reading it, trying to figure out what was going on while he was still living in Spain’s house. “My boss has worse handwriting…” Romano stopped and actually read what he was looking at.

_“I don’t think I have ever seen Veneziano or Romano look so worn out before. At least I can say that Veneziano had a better outlook once he had reunited with Germany. But for Romano… he is very worried for his brother, and he has a point. There’s only so much any of us can do without sleep, and if what he said about Veneziano is right… well, one of these days it might do some considerable damage._

_Romano said that whatever Veneziano has cannot be cured. He would know better than I. But… there has to be something to help them out… Too bad sleeping pills don’t work for us.”_

          The notebook then turned into a more scientific journal, with records of tests and experiments done with various sleeping pills and their effects, followed by various substances and recipes. Romano only glanced through it to get the gist, his mind still reeling through the first page of the notebook.

          “He was making sleeping pills,” Romano explained slowly, getting to the last page. It wasn’t a complete recipe, merely adjustments from previous ones. “Though, it doesn’t say what he was working with when that explosion happened.”

          Greece nodded solemnly. “Sleeping pills… with ambrosia… I had a feeling this was the case. It was an idea I had when I was younger, but never followed through with.”

          “If you really want,” Romano said, “I could probably figure out what was in the stuff he made. Would that help get him out of the coma?”

          “It wouldn’t hurt.”

          “Ok.” Romano took out a piece of paper, and made an attempt to start writing. However, the only pen Spain owned was out of ink. “Um… do you have a working pen?”

          Greece pulled one out from his pocket. “When you’re done, just keep it in Spain’s desk for the next time you need one.”

          “I’m not here _that_ often,” Romano pouted. A part of him wished that he was.

 

          Germany had originally thought that he could focus on his business in Spain without too much of a problem. Sure, another nation was in a coma; it was rare enough in itself let alone for there to be nothing happening in his country to warrant it. But he wasn’t that close to Spain, so he could approach the whole thing unattached. That was what Germany originally thought, however his thoughts circled around the issue and onto some darker thoughts about death and dying. That was distracting enough, making Germany tense; it was even worse when he started seeing something in the corner of his eye. He couldn’t get a good look, but he could have sworn he saw a boy in a black hat and cape looking at him sullenly.

          It had gotten bad enough for Germany’s boss to notice. After the last meeting, Germany’s boss told the nation to take some time off. It made Germany uncomfortable to hear that from his boss, however he had never disobeyed a direct order yet.

          Romano was the one to greet Germany first, as he was heading back inside from working in the garden. His overalls were covered in dirt and he was sweating. They stared at each other for a moment. Germany was prepared for some sort of insult to come from Romano.

          “Welcome back, potato bastard,” Romano said. He sounded tired.

          Germany thought that was the best greeting he had ever gotten from Romano. “Guten tag. How are things?”

          “Well… Spain’s still unconscious. And we found out he was making sleeping pills.”

          “Really?”

          Romano nodded, and opened the door. “Si…” He looked a bit dejected.

          “…are you ok?” Germany asked.

          “I’m fine,” Romano said, unconvincingly. He didn’t give Germany a chance to ask a follow up question before running upstairs.

          Germany didn’t care enough to go after him. He went into the sitting room to put his bag down, and found Japan, looking through a manga, and Italy, curled up under a blanket. Japan looked up immediately, and rushed over to Germany.

          “You’re back,” Japan said, in a hushed voice.

          Germany nodded, and looked over at Italy. “A siesta?”

          Japan followed Germany’s gaze, “Hai. Italy had a rough night last night. He needs to catch up on sleep. How were your meetings?”

          “They… could have been better. They were a bit awkward since Spain wasn’t there, but we made due. His boss was a bit on edge, however I explained things as best I could.” Germany took a seat on the couch once he set his bag down quietly.

          “You seem tense. Is everything ok?”

          “I…” Germany looked at Japan, and something behind his friend caught his eye. A boy in a black hat and cape looking directly at him with a menacing glare. His blue eyes looked to be on fire. “Honestly, I don’t know… I’ve been more easily distracted… and I think there may be something following me.” The boy’s eyes narrowed.

          “You need to see a therapist, or at least talk to someone.”

          “Ja, I know… But I don’t know who to talk to.” The boy by that time had disappeared, but Germany still felt like he was being watched.

          “If you want a suggestion,” Japan said, “Why not a nation who you don’t talk to very often? You can be honest without having to worry how to word certain things.”

          Germany thought about it for a moment. It was an idea… he just had to figure out who to go to. “How about you, Kiku?” Germany asked eventually, “How are you doing?”

          “I can’t complain. Though, I will admit that I am procrastinating with some paper work for my boss.” Japan smiled sheepishly.

          “So long as it gets to him in time. Any… um… new reading suggestions?” Germany fumbled through the question.

          Japan grinned and pulled out a book from his bag. It wasn’t in Japanese, which surprised Germany. “This I got from Romano. He has a good eye for romance novels, surprisingly. It’s about a girl who lost her first love in a war and learning how to love again after that. I think you would enjoy this one too. You can borrow it after I am done.”

          Romance novels were Germany’s guilty pleasure. Both Japan and Italy found out about it when they were planning strategies, because there was a trashy romance novel of the time in Germany’s backpack. Instead of making fun of him for it (like Prussia did), the two of them really enjoyed it. “Have you started it?”

          “A little.” Before Japan could explain any more, Italy stirred a bit in his sleep.

          Looking over to where he was, Germany could see that Italy was having a nightmare. His brow was furrowed and his right hand clutched the blanket tightly. Japan waisted no time going over to Italy and gently woke him up. Italy looked very scared at first, and immediately reached for his prayer beads lying on the coffee table, but after he readjusted to reality, he calmed down a bit. He noticed Germany and smiled a bit. “’Morning, captain.”

          “It’s four in the afternoon,” Germany said, a small smile on his face.

          “Oh,” Italy looked worried, “Is it really that late?”

          “Hai,” Japan said, “You looked tired, so I let you sleep.”

          Italy sat up. Germany thought that the Italian still looked tired, and wondered how bad he was before. “It didn’t really help much… I’m still tired…” Italy looked highly disappointed.

          “It takes a few days to get back to a normal sleep rhythm,” Germany said, thinking back to a book he read, “It’s best to keep to a normal sleeping pattern.”

          Italy didn’t look all that amused. “I’m trying.” He walked up to Germany and put his arms around him. “I missed you,” Italy said quietly.

          Germany wasn’t sure what to say in reply, and so just held Italy close. “I missed you too.”

          “Should I shove you two into a private room?” Japan said, after waiting a while for something else to happen. Germany and Italy separated themselves very quickly, which made Japan laugh a bit. “Here’s an idea, why don’t we go outside? It is still light out, and the fresh air can do us all some good.”

          “That sounds like a great idea, Kiku,” Italy said, smiling.

          Germany agreed with the idea, if only to spend time with his best friends in the world. It was something normal they could all do, and normal was something they all needed at the current moment.   

 

          “So… sleeping pills?” Germany said once everyone was done eating dinner. Romano and Italy were washing dishes, Greece was working on some stuff for his boss, and Japan had gone upstairs to go keep an eye on Spain.

          “Si,” Italy said as he was drying a cup, “We’re not sure why though… it seems a bit out of character for him. He’s not much of a scientist.”

          Romano did not look convinced, however kept whatever opinion he had to himself. Greece noticed this, and he did find it a bit odd. There was something that he saw in the notebook that he wasn’t telling anyone. Greece had his theories, but he could wait until Spain woke up to confirm them. He was patient.

          “If they do work, it would help a lot.” Germany mused.

          “Si…” Italy agreed, “But… ambrosia seems like a very dangerous substance. It got Spain landed in a coma, so…”

          “They should get tested properly,” Greece said, “I’m sure that Spain would have brought it up at the world meeting next week. And we can make sure it gets discussed.”

          “Wait,” Romano stopped washing dishes, “There’s a world meeting next week?”

          “I forgot, honestly,” Italy said, glancing at Spain’s fridge calendar, “I didn’t realize it was so close… what if Spain doesn’t wake up by then?”

          “Let’s just take it one day at a time,” Greece said,  “We can only hope for the best. There is still some time before then.”

          “I fucking hate waiting around,” Romano said agitatedly, splashing the water in the sink, “Isn’t there anything more productive we can do?”

          “Pray?” Germany suggested.

          “I’ve done that already. Fat load of good that has done so far!”

          The doorbell suddenly rang. For a moment, everyone was frozen, wondering who would be at the house so late in the day. The sun had already set. The doorbell rang again, and Italy went to go answer it. Greece turned so that he could see the door. The person there was a local young man with a basket of pears. Italy invited the local into the kitchen. The tension in the room immediately skyrocketed.

          “This is José Felipe,” Italy explained, “He’s Antonio’s neighbor.”

          Everyone waved awkwardly, except Romano, who was staring at José with a hard look.

          “I heard Antonio was sick?” José asked, putting the basket of pears on the table. “Is he ok?”

          “He’s going to be fine,” Germany said, “He just needs some rest.”

          “Kinda disappointing though. I have something that he’d been looking for.” José pulled out an envelope, “Can you give it to him when he gets better?”

          “What is it?”

          “A family tree. My tío was recently doing some ancestry work, tracing back the family line. Antonio was interested in where my line went, and so…” José shrugged.

          “Why would he care?” Romano asked harshly.

          “Well, we were talking about stuff, I needed help with some history homework, and he let me talk it out. I made a mention that some great uncle of mine was in the navy, and he got interested. And I told him that I’d try to find out who it was. And I finally did. Captain Diego García.”

          Romano recognized the name, nodded to acknowledge the explanation, and went back to washing dishes.

          “That’s really cool that you were able to find him,” Italy said.

          “Si, it was really difficult. There wasn’t much about him, just a record of the ships he served on. But then, by luck, we found his daughter’s birth certificate and then we found his husband.” José smiled brightly.

          “Did it actually say that this captain had a husband?”

          “Well, it was pretty obvious. Sure, it didn’t say he was gay and living with his husband, but it did say that he was living with his best friend and they helped raise a kid together. Close enough, especially since there is a picture of the two of them and they have rings on.” José quickly pulled out his phone and shared the photo he took. It was a small painting of two Hispanic men, sitting on a couch in a drawing room. They were wearing matching rings.

          Greece smiled. It was rare for a story like that to make it to the present day. “That is a lucky find,” he told José.

          “So, yeah… if you can give it to Antonio, that would be great. Also, if you can let him know my mom is waiting for the tomatoes he promised. They look really good.”

          “They’re ready for harvest. Here.” Romano walked off and came back with a small basket of tomatoes. “Take this home.”

          “Really? Gracias. I really appreciate it.” He looked at Romano for a moment before adding, “Oh, you must be Lovino! Antonio talks about you all the time.”

          “Really?” Romano raised an eyebrow.

          José nodded, “Yeah, he says you’re a hard ass with a good heart. I can see what he means now. I hope we meet again. Oh, and the pears are for you all to enjoy, just leave a few for Antonio, ok?” With that, José headed back home.

          Greece looked at the envelope José brought over. “It’s always nice to see history uncovered like this. That even though it has been lost, that it can be found again.”

          Romano looked at the papers in the envelope. It was mostly just the family tree that José promised, but there were a few letters as well.

          “So, who was he?” Italy asked, looking over Romano’s shoulder, “This captain?”

          “He was one of Spain’s best captains… I sailed with him once. He helped me a bit with my Spanish.” Romano looked over the letters, “I know Spain was very fond of him, and was very sad when he retired from the sea.” He stopped at one letter. “This one was to Spain…” He folded up the papers and put them back into the envelope. Romano then went upstairs, with the envelope and a few of the pears.

          “Oooh,” a light-bulb turned on for Italy, “This must be the one who knew about Spain being a nation. Spain talked about him a few times.”

          “I wonder why?” Germany said.

          “The captain must have been really good at reading between the lines,” Italy said, grinning, “That’s what usually happens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be talking about what is going on with Germany more in depth in the next story. I figured now was a good a time as ever to introduce the idea that there is something going on with him.   
> That is it for this week's update. Next week: We continue to see what happens with Spain in the broken immersion dreamscape and Romano gets a chance to share some feelings. Plus, a surprise appearance! (and I use that lightly, because it's just a phone call with this particular nation). Until then.


	13. Chapter 13

          _Ever since the reality of the dream broke, Spain came to find that he really didn’t need sleep or food. That made the days long and unbearable, especially with only his thoughts to keep him company during the lonely hours of the night. Though, he did come to the conclusion that when he got out of the coma, he would have to talk with Mexico, and the others who were once his colonies._

_Spain and England were going through sea charts, plotting a course back to dream Europe. The dream was still being upheld by England, who seemed to be in worse condition than Spain. The Spaniard came to the conclusion that it was because of the way England got into a comatose state. It was a bit more lethal. England spaced out, which Spain was used to by that point._

_Though, Spain wasn’t looking at the charts, but rather at the window outside. The sky had been growing steadily darker all day, to the point where Spain was slightly worried of another storm. Though, maybe, another storm is what they needed to wake up from this dream._

_“That’s it!” England suddenly exclaimed, jerking Spain out of his thoughts._

_“What is?” Spain asked, tearing himself away from the window._

_“The box. The one you saved from my ship. I remember how to open it.” England ran over to his box and held it in his right hand. He pointed at it and said, “Alohomora.” England’s eyes glowed green and the box popped open. Inside it was an empty bottle with the label reading “Ambrosia”._

_“That’s what did it,” Spain said, picking up the bottle and examining it. He was surprised that it was in a box that England owned._

_“Did what?”_

_“The explosion… It was this stuff that was in it.” He had to use ambrosia as a base for the sleeping pills, and mixed in normal components typically found in sleep help drugs. “I think it was because it was overheated or mixed with something else and the reaction of it cause it to explode…” He certainly didn’t mean for it to happen, and realized it when it was too late. “…and put me into a coma.”_

_“Maybe that’s why we’re in this same dream on this ship. Both of us were effected by ambrosia. Not much is known about the substance, so anything is a go.”_

_“And I just thought it was because we were bonded by our rivalry friendship,” Spain said, in a sarcastic tone of voice. But it made sense. Spain knew that due to ambrosia being a more alchemical substance, it did have more magical properties than scientific ones. It would make sense that it would keep the two nations in a dream longer than needed. Though… he knew he would have to keep a better eye on England when all this was said and done._

_Hurried knocks came to the door of Spain’s room. It was Captain García and Captain Henderson. They both saluted when the door opened._

_“Señors,” Captain García said, “There’s another ship, and it is coming fast.”_

_“Another ship?” England asked, running out onto the deck. Spain followed quickly behind. It made him nervous. Besides his own ship, there hadn’t been anything else in the open waters. Even when they were close to shore, all the boats were docked and the town he visited was devoid of locals._

_“Nervioso?” Captain García asked Spain._

_Spain nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Just… what exactly was this?_

_“The flag…” Spain heard Captain Henderson say, “It’s American.”_

_‘So,’ Spain thought as he watched the ship come closer and closer, ‘This is for England.’ Which could mean two things: either England was going to get out of the dream or sink further into it._

_“This encounter isn’t going to be pretty…” England said with dread in his voice._

_“But remember,” Spain said, in a lame attempt to reassure England, “You are on my ship, with my flag. They will only pass us. Go into my cabin. I’ll get you when the coast is clear.”_

_“No, I’m not in my uniform. They shouldn’t know I am British…”_

_“As long as you don’t speak,” Spain clarified with a smirk._

_Spain and England watched the ship as it came closer and closer. Spain felt a little nervous, wondering what this ship was supposed to be. He prayed it was to be a catalyst to getting out. He noticed green and blue sparks swirling all around the place. The ship stopped right next to Spain’s ship and the Spaniard could see who the occupants were. There were two individuals on deck: one was Italy in a cabin boy’s attire, a red bandanna tied around his head. The other was Canada in a maroon pirate captain’s cloak, complete with a matching, three tonged feathered hat._

_Spain froze as Italy boarded calmly, with Canada right behind him. “What are you doing here, Veneziano?”_

_Italy looked nervous. “As a warning. Romano is coming soon, and he’s really pissed… more pissed than usual, like he actually wants to kill you pissed.” He turned to England, “And you should probably hide.”_

_“But Veneziano,” Spain said, wondering why he was taking this so seriously, “Why is Romano here?”_

_“He’s here for you. You never returned home.”_

_“I’ve been trying,” Spain said, “It certainly isn’t for lack of trying.”_

_Italy shook his head, “It’s not just that… it’s…”_

_“Bastiardo!” a voice shouted out. Romano came aboard the ship, his attire very similar to Spain’s pirate uniform. The only real difference was that he wasn’t wearing a captain’s hat; instead it was a red scarf tired around his head. There was an evil fire in his eyes._

_“Romano, you could have waited. I would have…”_

_“You don’t get it, do you?” Romano got right up to Spain’s face, “You are in a fucking coma!”_

_“I know that! Why are you so upset?”_

_“Why do you think, idiota? I love you. Why the fuck didn’t you tell anyone you were doing dangerous shit?”_

_Spain was left speechless. “I… Romano… I wasn’t… I didn’t plan on this happening. Surely…”_

_“No one plans on disasters, Spanga. They take fucking precautions. They tell someone where they are going. They let loved ones know about dangerous, life threatening procedures. They let someone fucking know if they are playing around with a dangerous chemicals!”_

_Spain wondered how much of this the real Romano felt. Probably all of it. “I’m sorry.”_

_“I bet you are.” Romano unsheathed his sword hanging from his beltline. “Come on, there’s only one way out of a dream, right?”_

_Spain’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t do this.” He knew the theory: if a person dies in a dream, they just wake up in real life. It still did not give Spain any confidence that it would work._

_“Then wake up, bastard. It’s not that hard to do.”_

_“If I could, I would have. Why would I want to be stuck in my head?”_

_Romano did not look at all convinced. He swung his sword; Spain blocked it easily enough._

_“I don’t want to fight you, Romano.”_

_“Then don’t.” Romano’s sword came again and again, each time Spain blocked it. The other theory about dying in a dream was that you die in real life too._

_Spain tripped on his own two feet and he fell to the ground. Romano put a foot on Spain’s right hand so that he couldn’t use the sword again._

_“Please, Romano…”_

_Romano looked at Spain for a moment. The Italian looked scared too. “Hold still…” he said. The sword came swinging down, and Spain closed his eyes expecting the blow. It never came._

          Spain’s eyes shot open. He wanted to move, but his body wouldn’t react as fast as he wanted it to, which lead to him freak out even more.

          “Antonio!” Italy said in surprise, “He’s awake! He doesn’t look so good though.”

          “Spain,” Greece said calmly, putting a hand on Spain’s shoulder, “You have to calm down. You’re safe.”

          Spain saw Romano in the corner of the room, staring at him with his arms crossed. Spain let himself calm down, and he was able to move his fingers and sit up. “About time you woke up, jerk face,” Romano grumbled.

          “Hola, Romano. Veneziano. Greece. What are you all doing here?”

          “Hey! You were the one to call us here, bastiardo!” Romano walked right up to the bed. He looked pissed as all hell.

          Spain smiled sheepishly. “Right… glad to see you. Everything alright?” He was starting to remember what happened. That he wanted to show these three what he had been working on since he finally had a product that worked properly.

          “Oh, yeah,” Italy said, “Everyth…”

          “Don’t do that!” Romano interrupted Italy, getting right into Spain’s face. “Don’t just smile and act like everything is alright.” Spain backed away from Romano’s face as far as he could. He feared Romano might actually hit him, he certainly sounded mad enough to. Romano eventually sighed, and sat at the edge of the bed.

          “You really scared all of us,” Italy said, “You wouldn’t move or do anything. It was a relief that you were breathing.”

          “Lo siento,” Spain said, “I didn’t mean to get blown up, but everything is ok now.”

          “No, actually it’s not,” Romano glowered at Spain.

          “But, Lovino… I’m ok. I’m awake. Everything is…”

          Romano stood up. “You could have fucking died, you idiot! You were working with dangerous chemicals that you know barely anything about without telling anyone. What if something serious happened and you didn’t call us? You would have still been in the shed. What were you thinking?”

          Spain noticed that Greece took Italy out of the room, so that it was just himself and Romano. Alone. “I was making a gift…”

          “I could care less about some stupid gift! Do you have any idea how I would feel if you died?” Romano’s angry façade faded, and all his worry and concerned bubbled up onto his face. It was the first time Spain had true confirmation that Romano truly cared for him.

          “Lo siento, Lovino.”

          “…what kind of gift is sleeping pills anyway?” Romano said, crossing his arms.

          “You know?”

          “Hey, we needed to figure out what you were doing so we could take care of your properly.”

          “They are for you. Or rather, they are for Feliciano so that you don’t have to overexert yourself when he is having a nightmare episode.”

          Romano’s face hardened.

          “Whenever your brother is in distress, you do whatever you can to help him. Which is really sweet, but you don’t take care of yourself properly, and refuse to do so when anyone else points it out. I figured if I could get sleeping pills to work, at the very least you could be well rested.” Spain smiled, “It’s the very least I could do since you won’t take any other sort of help.”

          Romano pouted, but didn’t argue about what Spain said.

          “Is there something wrong, Romano?”

          “…you didn’t read my letter…”

          “You send me a letter?” Spain was very confused. It wasn’t like Romano never sent Spain any letters in the past, but he hadn’t sent any recently. At least none that Spain knew about, and he was diligent with collecting his mail.

          “There was a letter in one of your books in the library. And as much it was a stupid letter that was embarrassing as all fuck, I’m annoyed that you didn’t find it.”

          “Well, if you have it, I can read it now.” Spain really wanted to get on Romano’s good side again. He owed him that much.

          “No, because it is embarrassing as all fuck and a lot of stuff I said in it wasn’t true anyway. Maybe at the time it was, but it isn’t anymore.” Romano had his arms crossed over his chest. He looked as though he was searching for the right words; his face looked angry at nothing in particular.

          “Can you at least tell me what the letter was about?”

          “…a childish confession. I didn’t know how to say “I love you” in a way that meant what I felt.” Romano sighed, “I love you, Antonio. I love your stupid smile. Your laugh. The way you try to make others feel better. You are the fucking sun. And I was so afraid admitting it out loud, because… it isn’t that I am…” Romano gritted his teeth, and dropped whatever thought he had. “I want to stay by your side, Antonio. I want to be with you. I just… I don’t want to be married. I don’t want you to be stuck with me.”

          Spain blinked. As emotional as Romano was, he had never heard Romano be so honest about himself. ‘How long has he been holding onto this?’ Spain wondered. “But, Lovino, I want to be stuck with you. That’s why I asked you to marry me a few years ago. I love you.”

          “Even if all we do is hold hands?”

          “As long as I get to be with you, Lovi, I don’t care.”

          They sat there awkwardly for some time. Regardless of having been unconscious for who knows how long, Spain felt tired. But… he was worried about falling asleep and not waking up again. He looked down at his hand; blue and green sparks danced from them.

          “So, what do we do now?” Spain asked.

          “How the hell should I know?” Romano said, his usual temperament back in full force, “You’re supposed to be the expert on relationships.”

          “Sure, but not personal ones.”

          Romano sighed heavily and flopped so that his head was in Spain’s lap. “You know… I really missed the sound of your voice.”

          “You’ve gotten sentimental,” Spain pointed out, playing with Romano’s hair.

          “Don’t get used to it, you jerk.” Romano smiled full-heartedly.

         

          _It had been a very long time since Spain had been to Florida, and it might have been the first time he had gone there on vacation. The idea popped up to go there from Romano, who, when prodded about going on a vacation, expressed interest in going there. The beach in Miami was crowded, but that was to be expected in a popular tourist destination. The day was warm and the wind from the ocean felt nice._

_Spain looked over at Romano, who was half asleep on the beach towel. It made Spain glad; he suggested this trip so Romano could get a break from everything. Home was rough, though Romano never said why._

_“Hola, Antonio!” a familiar voice called out._

_Spain looked up and saw Florida herself, in an orange bikini holding a boombox from a few decades ago. She had long brown hair, slightly wet with ocean water. Her brown eyes were bright, almost like sunlight glowed through the dark color. It was odd for Spain to see a former colony in such a casual manner. But, this was one of America’s states, and only a handful cared about formalities._

_“You should have told me you were visiting,” Florida continued, putting down the boombox, “I would have made a welcome basket, or at least given you restaurant recommendations.”_

_“This was a last minute vacation,” Spain explained, “You look good.”_

_“Well, anyone would look good in a bikini and some confidence. So, this must be Lovino,” Florida hovered over the tired Italian, “You don’t look as menacing as Lex and Abigale keep saying you are.”_

_Romano glared at Florida, though it didn’t look all that dangerous. It was like a glare from a cat. “Don’t fucking test me. Who the fuck are you?”_

_“Fernandina. I think we met once before, but you were still a kid. You certainly grew up well.”_

_Romano rolled his eyes, and lay back down on the towel._

_“Are you here alone?” Spain asked._

_“Nope. I’m with a few others.” Florida turned around and called out, “Huston! Callie! Look who I found!”_

_Two people came running up, who Spain recognized as Texas and California. Texas was in swim trunks and a cowboy hat that covered his messy brown hair. His auburn eyes seemed to have stars in them. California was in a one piece bathing suit. Their shoulder length black hair was an absolute mess with tangles. They looked exhausted._

_“Hola, Antonio,” Texas said, “Mighty nice crossing paths again.”_

_California, while giving a friendly enough smile, merely waved once._

_“Are you still working with horses?” Spain asked._

_“Can’t be a cowboy without them,” Texas grinned, “Everyone loves the rodeos they are in.”_

_Suddenly, a trumpet fanfare sounds out, and Romano groaned. He grabbed his cell phone from his bag and walked a little ways away from the towel set up. Spain was nervous as to who would be calling and why. It couldn’t have been Romano’s boss; the ringtone was too casual._

_“So,” Florida sat next to Spain on the towel, “Are you two finally going out?”_

_“No, this is just a vacation.”_

_Florida sighed._

_“You’d think that the two of them would be dating and no one knows about it?” California said, staring at Florida with one eye, “A Spaniard_ and _an Italian?”_

_“Gilbert has kept quiet for a few months now,” Florida said, “And we all know he gossips about everything.”_

_“And yet we all know he’s dating again,” California pointed out, “Sure, he may have kept quiet, but for those of us who can pick up on nuances can easily tell who he is dating.”_

_“Ok, so why is it that Ludwig or Alfred don’t know?”_

_“Oh, Al knows,” Texas butted in, “He stumbled into the two of them together once. And I think Ludwig is just too busy and hasn’t really paid attention to Gilbert.”_

_“Hold on,” Spain interjected, “Gilbert is seeing someone?”_

_“Oh, yeah, it’s…” Before Florida could let out the details, Texas and California shut her up._

_“I’m sure the couple will tell everyone when they are both ready to share,” Texas said, “As annoying as that is. Or you can pester Gilbert about it. You’re still friends with him, right?”_

_Spain nodded. It had been a while since he had hung out with Prussia though. Work and his side project kept getting in the way of hanging out. By that point, Romano was done with his phone call and returned to the towel. He didn’t look at all happy._

_“So, who was that?” Spain asked cheerily._

_“Sebastian,” Romano said, “I need to go home and make sure he’s ok. Apparently, there was an outbreak of some sickness and with him being very small, it’s effecting him greatly.”_

_Spain blinked, “Who is Sebastian?”_

_Romano groaned, “Seborga. I told you about him. He lives in Veneziano’s part of the country. But Veneziano is out on other business with our boss.” Romano gritted his teeth._

_“I can take you to the airport,” Florida said, “I know the routes better.”_

_Spain hated that the vacation got cut so short. They hadn’t even got to enjoy an entire day together. “Call me when you get there?” Spain asked._

_“Yeah, sure.” Romano said dismissively._

_California and Texas joined Spain on the towel as Romano and Florida headed off the beach. It sucked, the whole thing. It was out of Romano’s hands, and honestly out of everyone’s hands. And just after Romano helped Italy through his recent bout of nightmare attacks too._

_“Have you ever told Romano how you felt?” California asked._

_“I proposed to him once. He declined.”_

_“You proposed without asking for a date first?” Texas asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be the relationship expert?”_

_The question hit Spain harder than it should have. He was good at talking about relationships that weren’t his own. He could give great advice about picking up dates, but when it came to his own life, he wasn’t good at it in the slightest. ‘If only I could finish Lovino’s gift,’ he thought as the topic moved to football, or soccer as the two Americans kept calling it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lex is New York and Abigale is Massachusetts. Also, as a side note, the states refer to everyone by human name, if they know it. And if they don't, it's like the first question.


	14. Chapter 14

          Romano slightly wished that he was drunk when he confessed his feelings for Spain out loud. At least then, he wouldn’t have to remember what he said and play it over and over again in his mind. He knew the whole thing could have been done so much better. He wasn’t good with words.

          “We should probably take it slow,” Germany said when he brought Spain breakfast, “We still don’t know what effect all those chemicals had.”

          “Si… it is probably for the best…” Spain took a forkful of eggs. Romano stared from the stool.

          “I was expecting you to be more resistant of that.”

          “Well, I know that I had been tampering with chemicals for a long time. And that might have affected my health in the long run.”

          “You think?” Romano said, raising an eyebrow.

          Spain smiled sheepishly at Romano.

          “When you are done,” Germany said, “You should walk around a bit. Stretch out your legs and such.”

          After the third forkful of eggs, Spain ended up just moving the food around on his plate. His face had gotten a bit paler, which Romano knew wasn’t a good sign. He started glancing from Spain to the trash can, wondering if he should prevent a situation that could happen before it actually happened. He also wondered why Germany wasn’t picking up on Spain’s paleness. He was usually astute with that sort of thing.

          “Is everything ok?” Germany asked eventually.

          “It’s… ah… I don’t feel so good…”

          Romano grabbed the trash can without another word, just in time for Spain to use. There went breakfast.

          “Maybe… solid food was a bit of a push…” Germany said in hind sight.

          Romano bit his tongue so that he wouldn’t lash out at Germany… even though he really wanted to. How could he not have known? Even though Romano didn’t really catch it either. Japan did say something about it downstairs… they should have listened to him.

          “I’m ok,” Spain said once he was done. He looked awful, but the color was back in his face.

          “Bullshit,” Romano said, glaring.

          “What do you want me to say, Lovino?”

          Romano wasn’t sure how to respond to it. He sat back down on the stool and grumbled.

          The door to the room opened and Italy poked his head in. “Romano? We’re ready for harvesting… Are you going to come with?”

          “The tomatoes are ready?” Spain asked.

          “Si,” Romano said, once again trying to keep his temper in check, “Don’t you know what time of year it is? You neglected the garden. Good thing you called me.”

          “I owe you one.”

          “Si, you owe me a date.” Romano flushed up. Oh, God, he said that out loud.

          “When I can eat properly, yes.” Spain had that flirtatious look on his face, which didn’t help Romano’s blushing at all. “Your pick.”

          Romano dashed out of the room. He was still blushing hard, but he had a smile on his face. They were going to date. Finally. Something.

 

          Even though Spain couldn’t handle any solid foods, Germany was keen on Spain having something. Anything. So, they tried orange juice, which Spain could keep down, thankfully. Once he was done with the orange juice, Germany helped Spain out of bed and onto his feet. Spain felt a little dizzy, but he chalked it up to being bedridden for so long. He changed Into some actual clothes; he felt a little better about himself. A change of clothes usually had that effect.

          “I would like to go out to the garden,” Spain said, when Germany came back into the room.

          “Are you sure?”

          “I need the fresh air…” Spain also wanted to see the garden. He felt bad that he had ignored it the past few months. He should have taken better care of it.

          Spain took it slow. His footsteps were shaky at first, but got more confident as he continued walking. Germany stayed by his side, just in case he tripped or fell suddenly.

          “Antonio!” Italy shouted as Spain and Germany came outside. He was holding a basket half-full of ripe tomatoes. Romano, Japan, and Greece were also there, but in different places in the garden, all of whom also had baskets with various amounts of tomatoes. Italy put down the basket and ran up to Spain, nearly knocking him over in the process.

          “Cuidado, Veneziano,” Spain said, trying to catch his balance, “I still need to get used to my feet again. Gracias for helping with the garden.”

          “It’s not a problem. It would be a shame for the tomatoes to go to waste.” Italy’s face got serious, something that Spain hadn’t seen in a long time. “Say… you said that you made the sleeping pills as a gift…”

          “Si, I made them with you and Lovino in mind. I kinda have to take them to the world meeting, but… if you need them now… I don’t think anyone is going to care if you take one.” Spain winked.

          Italy looked very skeptical about it. “No offence, but I’m more than just a little worried about that.”

          “It’s fine, I promise.”

          “To be fair,” Germany said, “None of us have any way of knowing that.”

          “I guess you do have a point,” Spain said, a bit defeated.

          “Hey, if you’re going to stand there,” Romano shouted from the garden, “You can at least grab a hose and water.”

          “Ok, Lovi!” Italy shouted and ran to get the hose.

          “I don’t mean you, Veneziano! I meant the potato bastard!” Romano came running up to stop Italy, but by that point Italy had already gotten to the hose and turned it on. He had not gotten any better with wielding a hose, so Germany, Spain, and Romano got drenched before the hose got turned off again.

          “Why is it that you get everything wet except for the tomato plants?” Romano asked frustratedly. Sopping wet hair on Romano was a surprisingly good look for him.

          Italy shrugged, “It’s a good way to cool off.”

          “I never asked you to drench me in water!”

          “It’s not that bad, is it?”

          “Oh, come now,” Spain said, walking over to the Italians before Romano could continue the argument, “Why don’t we just enjoy the day, hm? The sun is shining, the tomatoes are ripening, and we are all together. Can we enjoy it without quarreling?”

          Surprisingly, it worked.

 

          Spain realized he dozed off after going out to the garden when he had been woken up by Romano shouting from downstairs. From what Spain could hear, the yelling was directed at Germany, which was no surprise to anyone. Spain knew full well of how Romano felt about Germany. And then the phone rang. Spain made to get it, but someone else got to it in another area of the house. After some time, Romano came into the room with some orange juice.

          “France called,” Romano said stiffly, “He said to call him back later.”

          “I could have gotten the phone,” Spain said, shrugging, “It’s right here.”

          “Hey, I had no idea that…” The phone rang again. “Porco cane!” Romano swore as he picked up the phone.

          Spain shook his head and sipped a bit on the juice. He was still very careful about consuming anything, not wanting to upset his stomach again.

          “And what the fuck do you want?”

          Spain couldn’t hear who was on the other side. He hoped it was someone who wouldn’t get too sorely pissed with Romano’s verbage.

          “Who is this?” Romano waited for a reply on the other end. “England’s on the phone. Do you want to talk to him?”

          Spain nodded, and put down the orange juice. He was nervous; what did England want? More importantly, was England actually in the dreams he had while in his coma, or was that just a part of his imagination? Romano handed him the phone and left. “Hola?”

          “Hola, Captain of the _Asunción_. How are you feeling?”

          Spain couldn’t help but laugh a little out of relief. “You know, for all that time we were together, you never told me the name of the one that sunk. I hope it wasn’t an important one.”

          “They were all important,” England said unamused, “How are you feeling?”

          “I’ve been better. How about you?”

          “I’ve been worse. I just wanted to call to make sure you were alright.”

          Spain knew that wasn’t the purpose for the call. “To make sure it all happened, right?”

          “Yes… About the explosion… what exactly were you doing?”

          “Ah, that.” Spain toyed with the idea of telling England there and then, but… they’d all be at the world meeting. It would probably be better for him to find out then. “I can’t tell you.”

          “Why?”

          “At least not now. I want it to be a surprise for the world meeting.” Even though five other people knew as well.

          “You’ll be able to make it?”

          “I should, if Romano will actually let me out of bed.” Spain may not have been completely 100%, but he did need to do some things to get back his old strength.

          “Alright, but if you can’t make it, you have to tell me.”

          “I will, I will. I owe you that much.”

          “Is it something good?”

          “Si, very good. All I ask is for you to hear me out when I explain. Comprende?”

          “Fair enough. Though I have a bad feeling about this.”

          Spain rolled his eyes. “Don’t. Please, trust me. I’ll see you Monday.”

          “Spain, wait,” England said quickly just as Spain was taking the phone off his ear, “Before you hang up… Thank you, for helping me out.” Spain really couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I don’t think I would have come back without you.”

          Spain was kind of freaking out. Was he in some different universe where Romano actually talked about his true feelings and England was nice for a change? “Alright, who are you and what have you done with the real England?”

          “I mean it, Spain. Also… This is going to sound so bloody weird, but… are we friends?”

          “After all that happened, I think we can say we are.” Spain wondered where this was going.

          “But… can we come to each other in times of need? Can we trust each other?”

          Spain thought for a moment. Being friends with nations was a slippery slope of getting your feelings hurt. But… who else was going to understand the full gravity of it all? “You know, I’ve had to tell this to Francis and Gilbert. I can never trust you as England, but then again, who can? But I can trust you as Arthur Kirkland.”

          “Never tell America’s states you said that. I know at least 13 of them who would heartily disagree.”

          Spain laughed, “Don’t worry. I’m in a similar boat with a few South American countries. This can stay between us.”

          “Thank you, Antonio,” England said before ending the call.

          Spain looked at the phone for a long time. He was glad that England had called; it restored a bit of faith in him that something good came from the explosion. However, he knew that there was another phone call he had to make, a long delayed one to Mexico. As for what to say, Spain had no idea. An apology, sure, but it was surely too late for that. What would be the point?

          Spain picked up the phone, found Mexico’s number, and called it. He had to do this. He knew it was going to nag him in the gut until he did. And for once, he didn’t care if it made him look like a dumbass.

          “Hola? Soy Juan Carlos.”

          “Hola, Mexico,” Spain said delicately, “Es Antonio.”

          “¿España?” Mexico sounded very surprised, “What do you want? You never call just to chat.”

          That was a good question. Spain was hoping for some fun banter before getting to the point in the hope of being able to explain properly. “I… I feel like we need to talk. And I ask you hear me out.”

          “I’m listening, though you are scaring me a little bit.”

          “We never had a good relationship. We started out on the wrong foot, and because of that… I may have done damage that is unforgivable…”

          “España… I cannot believe I am asking this, and I really hope I am wrong, but… are you high?”

          Spain did not know how to respond to that in the slightest. “No…”

          “Son unas mamadas. You took way too long to answer that.”

          “No, Mexico, I am not high. Please. I’m being serious.”

          “What brought this along though? You usually don’t talk about the past if you can help it. Not this kind of thing at least and certainly not to me.”

          Spain sighed, “I may have been working with a chemical that tempers with the mind. Usually, it makes people forget things… which it did… maybe the wearing off of the drug makes it so that I’d remember more painfully.”

          “So you were high.” Mexico sounded very much amused.

          “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

          Mexico chuckled a bit. “Sure, we got off on the wrong foot. Comes from being a colony, something that I’ve talked a lot about with America about. But, España, I don’t keep grudges. Honestly, I thought we were good after your civil war.”

            “But are we?”

            “Let me ask again, España. What do you want?”

            “Will you tell me your story? Sometime. I’ve never heard it. I know I’ve never asked.”

            Mexico was quiet for a very long time on the phone. Spain would have loved to see what his face was like. Not seeing… not knowing… it was nerve racking. “So long as you listen. And we have to do it in my country. It’s better when I can show you some of the places.”

            “Agreed. Maybe when the new year comes.”

            “We’ll talk about it after the world meeting, ok? Oh, I should get some of the others along with this as well.”

            “Go ahead. I’ll listen.” Spain owed this much at least.

            “…one other thing, now that I’m thinking about it. Do you have any of your conquistadors’ journals?”

            Spain took a moment to think about it. He never made an attempt to collect any of them… but there was one given to him by one, as a gift. “Si? Why?”

            “Read it, and bring it with you when you come over. I’ve found, while they are extremely biased… they do have good descriptions of the old traditions. You kinda have to read between the lines.”

            “I will do so.” Spain though he didn’t feel at all confident about reading between the lines and picking up on nuances. He figured it was something he was going to have to learn quick. He had to go find the book first however. Wherever it was in his library. “Gracias… for doing this.”

            “As I said before, I’m not one to hold a grudge. I’ve seen what that looks like… and we as nations can’t linger in the past for too long. It doesn’t do well for the mind.”

            “…lo siento…” Spain said quietly. He knew it was way to late for any sort of apology, but the guilt in his gut refused to go away.

            “España?”

            “…I’ll see you Monday, Mexico.”

            “Ok…” Mexico sounded very confused, “Just so you know, Antonio, you can call me by my name.”

            “You’d let me?”

            “I don’t see why not. Be safe. Hasta luego.”

            Spain ended the call. He couldn’t really say he felt that much better, however the guilt in his stomach was no longer there. True, he would have to go and see the other South American nations face to face for the first time in a long time, but… maybe it is for the best. In order for things to move on, something had to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Note: Porco cane! - For God's sake! (Not literally, but that is the sentiment) Son unas mamadas. - That's bullshit.
> 
> That is it for this week's update. From here on out, it's just going to be one chapter a week, but the chapters (for the most part) are going to be a bit longer and will be action packed. Next week is the world meeting. Spain gets to tell everyone what he did, and important topics will be avoided by a more interesting article. Until then.


	15. Chapter 15

          World meetings were always an interesting event. They never amounted to much of anything, since no one ever could get on the same page about climate change or the economy. They were more of a formality and a way to get together for smaller, more productive meetings.

          There were a few things of note at that particular world meeting. The first, much to everyone’s chagrin, was that Sealand was there. That micronation had a habit in the past of breaking into world meetings one way or another, and everyone had raised eyebrows about this, especially England. When nations asked about it, Finland merely said that Sealand was allowed to join in due to the fact that in all technicalities, he was an ex-British Nation. England knew it was something he would have to talk to Finland about later.

          The second point of note was that Spain and England made a point to find one another and were rather chummy before the meeting started. They talked for a long time, and seemed genuinely happy with each other’s company. Many nations were reminded of the times where those two nations were down each other’s throats. But, it was a few centuries ago. When the meeting began proper, the two of them took seats next to one another.

          The third was another pair, and an announcement made when the meeting started. Prussia would typically sit next to Germany during meetings, if not be in a corner of the room listening to music. However, that meeting, he sat next to Canada. Now, the Canadian had looked nervous the entire time being in the room, though no one was sure why. Not even America.

          Germany called the meeting to order and immediately Prussia’s hand shot up. Confused, Germany let his brother have the floor. “Though, do keep it short. We have a lot to cover today.” He was one of the only nations who lived in hope that world meetings could get somewhere.

          Canada had his face buried in his hands.

          “Calm down, birdy. And yes, this is quick.” Prussia looked expectantly at Canada, frowned a bit, and nudged the nation in the shoulder.

          Canada cleared his throat, stood up, and said, “I know that a few rumors have been going around about dating and such… so I wanted to put it to rest. Prussia and I are dating. I didn’t want to say anything at first because of the last time two nations were dating.”

          Almost everyone looked over to where Turkey and Greece were sitting (not together, mind you). They weren’t exactly a compatible couple, and the idea was a dumb one from the start. However, that wasn’t what Canada was commenting on; it was everyone’s reactions to them dating, even if it was a few short weeks. There was gossip for a long time about it.

          Canada sat back down; Prussia patted his boyfriend on the shoulder in a congratulatory and comforting way.

          “Thank you for the share,” Germany said, though he was looking at Prussia as he continued, “However, this could have waited until the end of the meeting.”

          “If you think your brother could wait a moment longer before announcing this, you are highly mistaken,” Canada said, an eyebrow raised. The matter rested on that note.

          Most of the meeting went along fine, conversation flowed without arguments for most of the day, until the topic of climate change came up. America and Russia butted heads and started arguing heatedly. Germany joined in, trying to get them back on the main topic, but there was no use, and everyone at the meeting knew it. America was loud, so nothing else was really going to get done until he was done, which could be forever.

          So, instead, several nations turned to other quiet activities to wait out the argument, hoping not to be pulled in. Australia was the first to be pulled in, the poor soul. Switzerland tried for a while to stay out of it, but there was only so much he could take of world powers being jackasses.

          China, for most of the meeting, was focused on an article on his phone. He would definitely been all over the argument going on otherwise. At one point, he looked up and accidentally caught eyes with Ireland. They look at each other for a few seconds, before China slid his phone across the table to Ireland. He looked at said article, looked at China, and slid the phone back with an unamused look. The two of them shared a few texts before China sent Ireland the link to the article.

          Northern Ireland and Scotland had caught interest and started looking at the article over Ireland’s shoulder. China passed his phone onto Korea, who after looking at the title grabbed Japan’s shoulder and shoved the phone into his face. One by one, the other nations were roped into this honestly more interesting side conversation. It got to the point where the buzz of the article was comparable with the argument going on.

          “Wait, what’s going on?” America asked. Finally, there was something to pull America and Russia off of each other.

          England and Wales finally got to take a look at the article as China explained, “A bunch of legendary items believed to be lost have just recently been found in a crate.”

          “What, all in one crate?” Germany asked, taking his seat back at the table.

          China nodded, “All in one crate. They are looking to see what museum to show them in.”

          “What about having them travel?” Turkey brought up, “These are things from all over the globe. I didn’t know there was a dragonfly spear.”

          Japan smiled sheepishly at the mention. “I haven’t seen tonbokiri in a very long time. It would be nice to see it again.”

          Wales didn’t look all that impressed at the article and eventually put his phone down. “I agree with Turkey and I hope that those discussing it come to the same conclusion. That, or they go back to the countries they are originally from.”

          “Is something wrong?” England asked, “You are usually more interested in this kind of thing.”

          “A part of me was hoping that Excalibur would be a part of this collection,” Wales said, and shrugged, which was not something he was known to do.

          “Excalibur?” Sealand spoke up, a glint in his eyes, “You mean like the sword from Camelot?”

          “The same. I lost it some time ago,” Wales glanced at Scotland who tried to look innocent as possible, “And have had no idea where it went since.”

          “Well, what does it look like?” Canada asked. He was all ready to go on a scavenger hunt for the sword.

          Wales took out a book and drew a spell circle in it. When he was done, a hologram picture of Excalibur popped up. It looked wondrous. A long steel blade with a golden hilt decorated in small gems all colors of the rainbow and its name written across it. There was also a curious leather band wrapped around the hilt. “This is Excalibur in its glory days. I’m sure by now it would be rusted.”

          A few nations tensed slightly. “I… um…” Prussia started to say.

          “I’ve seen that sword,” Germany said, “it was at my house during World War II.”

          Wales looked dumbstruck at Germany. “How did you get it?”

          Germany pointed at Prussia, who said, “I got it from America shortly after he won his revolution. He didn’t want it because he said guns were cooler, and I wasn’t about to let a good sword go to waste.”

          Wales glared at America. America looked back at Wales, not at all understanding how pissed off the Welshman was. Most of the room could tell, and they all backed away silently from the two of them. “America…”

          “Yeah?” America was one of the last people to read a room properly.

          “Where did you find Excalibur?”

          America shrugged. Wales gritted his teeth. “Look, dude,” America said, “That was ages ago. I don’t know. I didn’t know it was even all that important.” America went up to the hologram sword and looked at it closer. He put his hand around the hilt. “Actually… I think I remember this now… It was in England’s house and I took it because it looked cool and I didn’t know if I needed a weapon coming back home. I got a gun after landing, but…”

          Wales’ dangerous glare turn to England. “When did you fish out my sword?” Wales nearly growled.

          England, who had been avoiding the whole conversation the entire time, edged further from his chair. “I found it in the water. And I was going to give it back to you, believe me, but then it disappeared. I knew you’d get mad at me for losing it, so I said nothing.”

          Wales continued to glare at England for a few more moments before sinking in his seat in defeat. “And now we have no idea where it could be… what happened, Germany? Do you still have it?”

          Germany took a few moments to think about it. “…not as far as I am aware. At the end of the war, most items of that sort were taken. I haven’t seen it since, not that I have been looking for it.”

          Canada’s eyes glowed for a moment. When the light died down, he looked tense. He stayed quiet though.

          “What was that?” Prussia asked.

          “I’ll tell you later,” Canada hissed, trying to activate his invisibility powers. He didn’t want to tell Wales what he saw. Not yet.

          “Well, if we are just going to talk about this for the rest of the time,” Germany said, looking his watch and assessing what could be discussed with what was remaining, “We might as well just wrap things up. Does anyone have any other matters of importance to bring to the table?”

          Two hands shoot up: Prussia’s and Spain’s. France thought about raising his hand for the hell of it, and if England was the one leading the meeting, he definitely would. But this was Germany, and he really didn’t want to anger him.

          “Ok, Spain. What do you bring to the table?”

          Spain stood up and took out a brown box. He placed it on the table, and began his story, “A few decades ago, I started trying to make sleeping pills. It took a very long time to make it work, but I eventually got something that actually works decent enough.”

          England stared hard at the box, then up at Spain. “This was what you got yourself blown up for?”

          “Accidentally,” Spain said, cringing a bit as everyone looked at him with confusion, “Now, the only thing about it is that they are made with a bit of ambrosia, and so, they do have to be taken with a bit of caution. But as long as you only take one, and use it sparingly, you shouldn’t get addicted.”

          China did not look convinced. “And how much did you test this?”

          Spain shrugged, “Probably not enough. That is why I leave it up to this counsel to do with these as they will.” China motioned for the box, which Spain pushed over. “I did some tests… but I was the only test subject so…” Spain left his sentence in the air.

          China did not look amused. “We’re going to need more than one.”

          No one said anything. “Does anyone want to be a test subject?” Germany asked, seeing as no one else was ever going to take charge at world meetings.

          “That definitely doesn’t sound at all ominous,” Russia said, a bit sarcastically.

          Italy slowly raised a hand. “I… ah, volunteer as a tribute,” he said in a quiet voice. Everyone looked at Italy, who shuffled awkwardly. “I don’t mind.”

          “Ok, Italy shall be a test subject,” Germany said, and the words felt weird on his lips. “Anyone else?”

          Venezuela, Lithuania, and Korea raised their hands, and Germany took down their names. Lastly, England raised a hand. “I may not be the best test subject,” he said, “However, I do know painfully well what being under the influence of ambrosia feels like, and might be able to bring that insight in.”

          “I’ll allow it,” China said, “But I will be keeping an eye on you, opium.”

          England rolled his eyes.

          “Fine, then.” Germany added England to the list. “If no one else wants to be a part of this, we can conclude it for now and return to this at the next world meeting. Any other business that people want to bring up?”

          Prussia’s hand shot up again. Germany ignored it, looking around the room for anyone else. That was a mistake, since Prussia resorted to banging on the table, shouting, “Weeeeeeeeest!”

          Germany sighed, “Fine, what is it, bruder?”

          Prussia stood up. A lot of people rolled their eyes. “Well, the awesome me was asked to plan a party for all us nations and the new bosses. Something fun we can all do for once, while explaining to the new bosses about us nations without guns being involved.”

          America snorted with laughter, which ended up with England slapping him in the back of the head.

          “Alright, so what?” Austria asked.

          “We need to decide on a place to have it. A place big enough for all of us to attend. A place we can all agree on to go. I don’t want to plan a place and then not have some nations come because of the country that it’s at. That would be uncool.”

          Everyone was silent for a moment. “I say one of the neutral countries,” Canada said. Everyone turned to look at him; Canada shrunk slightly in his seat. “Like Switzerland, if he doesn’t mind.”

          “I do, actually,” Switzerland said. He was a hermit by choice, his closest companion being Liechtenstein. He glanced over at Wales, sighed, then said, “But… I am willing to host, as long as it’s not just Prussia working on this.”

          One hand shot up right away, that hand belonging to Poland. “I’m like totally offended that you didn’t ask for my help in this,” Poland said, but it was obvious by his face that he wasn’t too offended, “I’d totally be willing to help out.”

          Prussia looked extremely excited. France wrote down “German Sparkle Party” and sent the message over to Spain, who had a hard time trying not to laugh once he read the message.

          “I wouldn’t mind helping out as well,” Liechtenstein said quietly, also raising a hand.

          “Are you sure?” Switzerland asked.

          Leichtenstein nodded.

          A few nations gave some worried looks; Prussia’s reputation was a bit questionable. Hungary stood up. “Trust me when I say this: it will be fine. If you don’t like it, help out yourselves.”

          Hungary and Prussia looked at each other for a moment. Prussia gave a nod and mouthed, “Danke.”

          France raised a hand, “I would not mind helping to set up the building we will be using.”

          Germany took the floor again, “All of us can pitch in what we can closer to the event. Liechtenstein, Poland, and Prussia will plan everything out. Unless someone has any objections.”

          Finland raised a hand. “It’s not an objection,” he said quickly when everyone looked in his direction, “I just want to help out as well since I have experience.” He smiled awkwardly.

          “Why not?” Prussia said, giving Finland a thumbs up of approval.

          “Alright, gut, just be sure to update us on progress with that as time goes on,” Germany said, looking at Prussia, Leichtenstein, Poland, and Finland. “And if no one else as anything else to add…” Germany looked around the room. No one dared to add anything else. Most were eager to get out for the day. “That concludes this world meeting. Ireland, if I may have a word with you, alone.”

          A few nations, mostly those from the Celtic Isles, said, “Oooooh,” as Ireland, confused as all hell, stood up. “You’re in trouble,” Northern Ireland said, with a grin on his face.

          “Shut it,” Ireland said walking past to join with Germany. The two of them walked out of the room, neither saying a word. Probably not daring to do so.

          “So about your eyes,” Prussia started to say to Canada.

          “Not here,” Canada said, glancing at Wales for a split second, “I promise to tell you later, but there is something I have to check first.”

          “I will pester you until you do.”

          “I know.” Canada gave a small smile.

          “Dude!” America said, scaring the shit out of Canada, “Did you check out the list here?” America shoved his phone into Canada’s face.

          Canada pushed the phone away. “I’ll look at it later.”

          “But Benjamin Franklin’s glasses!” America gave Canada puppy dog eyes.

          “What’s so special about them?” Prussia asked.

          “He did some really cool stuff with them. It’s not the stuff that like all the painting show. They look more like goggles and they’re steam punky.” Suddenly, the sound of “Shipping Up to Boston” filled the room. America smiled sheepishly then bolted out of there, fiddling with his phone on the way.

          “That is a lively ring tone,” Spain commented, “Who could be calling him though. Everyone is here.”

          “It’s one of his states,” Canada explained, grabbing his jacket to leave, “Can’t exactly have the national anthem for all of them, right? See you all later.”

          Canada left the conference room. Prussia and Spain shrugged. “Who do you think it was?” Spain asked.

          “Beats me,” Prussia said, equally puzzled, “A bunch of them like that kind of music.”

          “It’s Massachusetts,” Romano said dully. Prussia and Spain looked at him in surprise. “What? I was over at America’s place for a while. I got to know some of the states pretty well. Massachusetts sent me that song a while back. She was really excited about it.”

          “Spain,” China walked over to the Spaniard. He took out a handheld notebook and sat down. “I need the ingredient list for these pills. If I’m going to be the one testing them, I need to know what is in them.” Information was exchanged; China made some reactions to the ingredients, but mostly kept silent. “You know, that was a stupid thing to do alone.”

          “Si, I realize that now,” Spain glanced over at Romano, who had a “I-told-you-so” grin on his face, “And I promise to never do it again.”

          “I must ask, why? It doesn’t seem to be the type of thing you would do.”

          “It was a gift,” Spain said simply.

          “Antonio,” Romano said once China left, “Promise me you won’t do that again. At least, not without telling me. Two can keep a secret, you know.”

          “Bien, mi Lovino, yo prometo.” And he meant it with all of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a clarification, Ireland wasn't impressed at first by China's article was because it was written in Mandarin and he couldn't understand any of it. He was more interested when he was able to read it in English.


End file.
